The Butterfly Effect 3
by Gramm485
Summary: Alone and on the run with the world around her slowly crumbling into disorder as bio-terrorism spreads, Ada realizes that the decisions she makes will determine the outcome of an impossible battle. She finds herself forced to ally with an unlikely side...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_My God is she beautiful…_

Crow really couldn't help himself from admiring her, even when he had cut her loose. He tried to force himself to push her from his mind, but she always seemed to come to the top of his mind and cloud his thoughts, like an incessant butterfly floating around a flower. A flower was pleasant to watch, and a butterfly was an amusing surprise, but after a while, it was only a nuisance.

Ada Wong stared back at him from across the rotunda with hidden fire that cut the air between them. Powerful, even when it was dampened as she stared through the sight of her gun. Few women could muster a gaze like that and remain beautiful, even when furious. She truly was unique.

The Asian spy wasn't wearing extravagant red, much to his own disappointment. Crow would have liked to see her alive for the last time in one of her flowing red gowns that seemed to set her passion ablaze. Her black combat pants and body armor was marred with scars and grit, splashed with white plaster; black to mourn her own nearing funeral. Favoring armor over heels and a slinky dress was astounding. She must have been so committed to killing him that she would relinquish one of the things that defined her.

But even when battered, dirty, and angry, Ada Wong still emitted this unseen radiance like an exotic particle. The very look of murder in her hazel eyes across her elegant Asian features screamed louder than any words could. Crow felt a tingle of excitement run down his spine, even though that hatred was directed at him. It almost felt like an honor to be hated by such a beautiful thing, to know that you could attract such wanton emotional fire from a single woman. At the same time, he knew he should be afraid, no, outright terrified. But everything was under control now, and he had nothing to fear.

Crow would have enjoyed watching that intoxicating gaze all day, but he doubted his men up on the upper balcony would welcome holding their weapons on her for that long. Neither would the ones scattered about the rotunda. Still, he wanted this moment to last an eternity. It had blossomed so fast out of the chaos. He would admit that he had felt fear, but above all he felt excitement, the same excitement whenever he got a glimpse of her performance.

_Simply magnificent…_

He shook his head dreamily, amused as he folded his hands before him, his revolver firmly in his right hand. The hammer was already cocked back and ready to fire a round. He didn't need to train the weapon on her, though, not with a dozen others already on the task. "You really are something, Miss Wong…You know that, right?"

The tip of her tongue poked from between her lips, wetting them. Other than that, she stood motionless. "Yeah, I do."

"After all the years of overseeing your operations, I never could quite fully understand you." Crow said thoughtfully. "Whenever I thought I had you figured out, you would pull one last twist. You performed years of faithful service, a willingness to do anything you were ordered, and suddenly, you were nearly my demise."

"Don't count that out just yet…" she purred quietly. There was a gentle rise in her arm and shoulder as she realigned her shot minutely. "I could hit you from a lot further away than this."

_I don't doubt it. I wonder if she's aiming for my head or my chest?_

She was standing on the other end of the rotunda, a considerable, yet close enough distance away, roughly ten meters away. Nothing stood between them other than tiled floor and open air. Too far to attack physically, well within her talent to shoot him, eyes closed probably.

"I could have offered you the world you know," Crow reminded her, still undeterred by the weapon and her threat. Ada was passionate, but not suicidal. "Anything you desired would have been at your fingertips. You could have been the queen to a new world order…But instead, you insisted on continuing to poke about in matters that didn't concern you. Why?"

"Because maybe I found something better than the world," Ada said coolly. "Maybe I was sick and tired of being used." She shrugged elegantly, the muzzle of the gun barely moving. "Or maybe I just felt like it."

"You're not going to pull the trigger, Miss Wong," Crow said simply.

"And why won't I?"

"Because if you shoot me, you die. You won't because you're not willing to sacrifice your life so needlessly. It's never been a flaw, if you consider it one. Your abilities have always been enough to surpass the odds you fought. You have never had the need, although…" Crow smirked. "…that didn't stop you from trying about six years ago, did it? After seeing how that worked out, I'm not surprised you never considered it again."

He was pleased to see a twitch run across her face, from her lip to her brow, even if the gun didn't waver. It was only one minor blemish that revealed itself only for an instant.

"After that, I think you had somewhat of a crisis. You didn't want to repeat the mistake you made, yet you were drawn to it all the same. I believe_ that's _when I began to lose my best operative…pure speculation, of course, as you performed quite well up until now."

"Do you really think I'm going to stand here and let you shoot me?" she asked back. "If you or your thugs shoot, you go down just as fast."

She was right about that, which is why they were locked in this standoff. The silence between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife. A gunshot, or any loud noise for that matter, would cause everyone's reflexes to snap, and he and Ada would probably die. Well, Ada would for certain as dozens of rounds from his guards tore her apart, but Crow might escape with a wound only, depending on how fast she shot.

Unless she shot him in the head, of course, and that was also assuming he would be hit in a non-vital area. Knowing Ada's skill, he decided not to risk the gamble. For now, she had to be taken alive, preferably without gunfire. Once in his possession he could personally take her apart, then dispose of her properly.

"I have no intention of killing you, Ada, at least not right here. You still possess a few pieces to the puzzle that I would like to have. Unfortunately for your sake, my previous offer has expired. You'll tell me what I want to know, but you're far too flawed to be the one at my side."

For the first time since her entrance in the rotunda, Crow took his eyes off of her to catch the eye of one of the guards behind her. With a simple flick of his vision, he gave the order. Two guards behind her moved in, their automatic weapons pointed to the small of her back. She bristled, but held her stance.

Crow looked back and smiled confidently at his former operative. "Now, why don't you be a good girl and drop your weapon. If you cooperate, I might not have to be so hard on you."

Ada's gaze flickered, first to her peripheral, then back to him, then to the men at his flank, then back to him. She pursed her lips, no doubt thinking hard for some way to turn things in her favor. But there were some things even Ada Wong couldn't wriggle out of.

With a slight sag of her shoulders, she turned the gun away from him, then let it fall to the ground with a loud clatter, raising both hands in defeat…


	2. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to Maiafay for beta reading this chapter!

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**Chapter 2**

Two weeks earlier…

Ada Wong peered from behind a shipping container, keeping her breathing as quiet as possible. The shadows hid her well, but the guard less than five feet away could still hear her if she was careless. The little convoy of cars she had tailed to the shipyard had parked a while ago, but only now did the passengers exit and make their way towards the dock. It had given her plenty of time to park some distance and infiltrate the compound; inside, it was crawling with hired guns.

It was night, but illuminated as the shipyard was, packing night vision would have been dead weight. Ada fished into the inner pocket of her leather jacket, then pulled out a plain optical scope, taking one quick glance at the guard's back before lifting it to her eye to spy on the group some distance away.

There he was, along with what had to be a few dealers and some meaty bodyguards. He wasn't hard to pick out, laughably shorter than the others.

_Irving…you're a little toady looking thing, aren't you?_

It was about time she picked up his trail. Ricardo Irving was a hard man to find. Hardly surprising though, given that he was one of the top arms dealers of the century. She had spent the better part of three months trying to track him down. It had been a long, sleepless, and uncomfortable search, and she had used her own healthy share of bullets, but now it was starting to pay off.

Through the lens, she couldn't make out what they were saying, but they passed briefcases between them. Irving, moving in an odd sort of lanky way given his height, didn't seem to be on edge—or if he was, he wasn't showing it. The man looked greasy in every sense of the word, a cross between a rodent and something that crawled out of a swamp. The way he cocked his head and smirked made it seem like he owned the world and everything in it.

The guard shifted in place, and she pulled back behind the container, content with her luck so far. She slipped the scope back into her jacket as she stepped back quietly on the gravel. Being this far away wasn't solving anything. She needed to get closer, close enough to shove the barrel of her Beretta in Irving's mouth so she could ask some questions. And she needed to do that without getting shot in the process.

She slipped between two more containers, keeping her eyes on the little party before her. After a few minutes, the group adjourned, taking their respective payments with them. A group of three men talking with Irving and his guards moved back towards the convoy of SUVs parked in the dark, headlights still blazing. Irving, however, spun on his foot and swaggered towards the dock with his muscle, one of the cases in his hand.

_Shit, he's going out on the freighter. I didn't think of this…_

A large freight ship was tethered to the dock, filled with more containers like the ones she hid behind. Either Irving made a purchase, or he was going to deliver a shipment himself; she wasn't quite sure what the man was doing. All her information had told her (after a few hours of 'encouragement') was that a deal was going down, and Irving was going to be there.

Gravel crunching made her freeze, but only briefly. She crouched low and pressed her body into the shadow of the container. It was one of the guards, maybe the one she had been hiding behind earlier. She bit the tip of her tongue as she held her breath, slowly moving her hand to her gun holstered beneath her arm. It had been easy enough to get another Storm, but not a silencer. One shot and the whole yard would go crazy.

But the guard meandered away from her, the dark frame of a submachine gun propped on his shoulder as he puffed on a cigarette. Ada breathed in relief, and then moved to another hiding hole. Irving was already on the deck of the ship, and after a few moments, she lost sight of him.

Irving seemed ready to go, but the boat wasn't. Trucks were loading more crates into the hold, the big military kind with canvas backs. They were passing awfully close to her position.

_Think…take the risk, or wait who knows how long to find him again. I won't be able to track a boat._

She didn't have the time. The truck's lights washed over her hiding spot, forcing her to duck, and as soon as they passed, she popped back out and carefully glanced at her surroundings. Hoping she didn't miss a guard looking her way, she sprinted towards the side of the truck. The entire two seconds felt like two hours, but no one yelled or shot as her gloved hand closed around the frame of the back of the truck. Quick and easy, she hoisted herself up and over the truck bed, then crouched behind a metal barrel.

The truck lumbered onto the ship. She felt the vibrations change as the vehicle passed from solid ground to the small loading bridge over the water, then to solid steel, and all the while she tensed for something to happen. If they for some reason decided to check the back, she was screwed, plain and simple. But then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. If she got what she wanted, the entire time spent waiting and planning would be well worth it.

A short while later, the truck's paced crawled, then stopped altogether. Doors slammed. Ada heard voices and braced herself. She had the element of surprise. Take out maybe two at most, probably unarmed lackies, and have time to hide the bodies. That would give her some time…assuming they were alone, of course…

But the voices trailed off, and all that was left was the light ticking from the cooling engine. She counted off a solid two minutes from her thin silver Movado watch, then climbed out of the truck. The inside of the freighter was pretty unremarkable; industrial hallways cut straight from steel, nuts and bolts painted over with gray and green. Close quarters, but if Irving was transporting weapons illegally, it would be a skeleton crew and a few guards.

A rumble down the hold announced another truck. She quickly hugged the wall before the headlights came, then slipped through an open hatch. The decks were labeled, and from the number B30 painted next to the hatch, she was towards the stern of the ship on the second-lowest level.

She worked her way deeper into the ship, ducking into the many nooks and crannies to avoid confrontation. As she moved into an empty corridor, a mindless thug passed. There wasn't time to search the entire ship, and there was no way to stay hidden without drawing some sort of attention.

So she decided to ask someone. Literally.

She tailed the guard for a little bit, and her luck continued. He moved into a small room, even propping his weapon against the wall on his way in as he busied himself with something at a small table. Ada sidled into the room, and by the time he heard her, it was too late. She grabbed his left arm, then kicked the back of his leg, dropping him to his knees. At the same time, she slammed his face onto the work bench. His groan of agony confirmed he was still conscious.

"Irving. Where is he?"

The guard grunted and slurred something out that sounded like a few foul words. She paused for a few seconds, then tightened her fingers in the mange of his dirty hair and slammed his head down again. This time, the impact sounded a little wetter. "Where is he?"

"He was…up topside…" the guard gasped through pain. Blood dribbled down his face from his split forehead. "Probably on the bridge-"

She'd heard enough. She grabbed her gun and wacked the butt of it onto the back of his skull. His head bounced off the bench one final time before he slid to the ground, unconscious. She took a few seconds to drag his heavy limp body to a corner out of immediate sight, and then shut the hatch behind her.

So Irving was on the top deck, probably. She would have to check and see. Before she made her way up, however, there was a little detour on her schedule…

* * *

_PING!_

Ada ducked low behind the metal crate as a bullet whizzed past her ear. It struck the metal hull, so close she could feel the minute vibration hum all the way in the soles of her boots. She swept out of cover, crouching low and fired a double tap in return. The overeager shooter leaning out from behind a corner took both rounds in the chest.

_And everything had been going so smoothly…_

All it took was one tiny mistake, and everything collapsed like a skyscraper built on a beach. One guard had spotted her, only one, and before Ada silenced him, his weapon discharged, the single report raising the alarm all over the ship. Now she was booking it to the bridge tower where she hoped Irving was holed up.

Much to her dismay, the top deck was a death zone. Irving's hired guns had plenty of time to dig in and find cover on top of containers, behind walls, up on catwalks and in hatches. Every corner was lit by bright spotlights that left no room to hide. Within seconds, gunfire from various weapons had her pinned down in the cargo entrance hatch towards the bow of the freighter.

"Guess it's time for Plan B," she muttered to herself as she dug into her coat, procuring a small detonator. She set her teeth, and then depressed the switch.

A tremendous explosion rocked the boat, nearly throwing her off her feet. She couldn't see the orange fireball that blasted through the reinforced steel of the hull, but the black smoke it formed quickly billowed up from the back of the ship. It had been a fairly small charge she set, but when placed near a few barrels marked flammable, it made quite the difference.

Only now, she had a time limit. They were a little over a mile out in open water, and a giant hole in the side of the ship meant it would start taking in water, and fast. She hoped the resulting panic would coax them to forget about her.

With the explosion fresh in everyone's minds, Ada sprinted forward onto the open deck before the stunned gunmen could lock onto her again. She just made it to a line of freight containers when the bullets started up. The mercenaries had numbers, but she was the better shot, even with just a handgun.

Somewhere inside her head, near her ears, Ada felt her equilibrium shift slightly. It wasn't pushing for her attention as much as the bullets were, but it was warning her that something was _off_. Then she realized it: things were starting to slant just the slightest it. The boat was going down all right, from the stern. The charge must have blasted a bigger hole than she thought.

Her battle soon became an uphill one. Only minutes later, the steel floor of the ship deck now slanted in a gentle slope. The gunmen positioned throughout the deck, however, still remained adamant in their defense, and continued to fire.

Metal started groaning. Ada glanced up at the freight container above her, then scuttled out of the way. It tipped with a mighty metallic clatter, sliding a few feet before wedging against sturdier objects. More were starting to slide, and finally, her adversaries began to realize the chaos of the situation. Over stray gunfire, a loud crash cut off a scream.

It became every man for himself as the boat began to near a forty-five degree slant, the bullets mercifully ceasing. Ada had to grip at the floor and press the soles of her feet into the bulkhead to find a foothold to continue moving forward. A large container to her right broke free from its brace, and screeched down the deck in a flurry sparks before slamming into another, toppling up and over into the air before landing onto the back of the hull.

Ada tore at the leg of her pants, removing her grapple gun from the ankle holster. The sense of equilibrium in her head was warning her that she was seconds away from sliding down the deck. She aimed it above and fired, sending the metal claw into a heap of metal near the catwalk on the bridge tower. It stuck firmly, and she let the return cable drag her up the deck, pushing away from obstructions as she ascended.

The cable retracted fully, but before she could free it and use it again, she saw the gunman. He'd been crouched on the end of a container, and was lining up a shot with an assault rifle. She quickly hoisted her gun up and fired from her suspended state. One bullet hit for sure, but that was all it took to send him off his roost and spiraling down the slanted deck.

Ada got a firm handhold, ripped the claw free from its anchor, then reached and took hold of the railing on the catwalk, hoisting herself up and over. Carefully stepping on the railing, she stumbled over to the hatch that led to the bridge.

With a grunt, Ada twisted the latch and hoisted herself in. Gunfire was there to greet her. Even in the skewed room, she kept her footing and spun to the side—at the same time tracking the origin of the bullets. She squeezed off a round. First the gun clattered beside her, followed by a body rolling down the floor which smacked against an interior window.

More shots rang out, forcing her to retreat behind a panel.

"Well ain't you a feisty one?" came a weasely voice.

"Nice to meet you too, Irving," Ada called up to him. She hadn't gotten the best look at him, but she had been pretty lucky that he was a poor shot. He was up and at an angle to her like everything else, hiding behind a console. Ada herself was securely wedged between the hull and another console bolted to the floor. "I don't suppose you'd mind answering a few questions?"

"Like what? How much you'd like to pay for sinkin' my merchandise?"

Even his voice sounded greasy and foul. The way 'merchandise' came out as 'moy-chan-dice' placed him from New Jersey, and while he was there he picked up every known cliché to the accent possible. He sounded pissed, but the tone his voice took made it hard to take him completely serious.

"No, not really," she said. "How about who's been supplying you with biological weapons? I know you worked for my former employers, and I'm curious if you're still dealing with them. If you are, I'd like to know where they are."

He laughed like a hyena cackling. "What kind of business d'you think I'd get if I told everyone the names of my clients? Sorry, toots, ain't gonna be that easy."

"Well, the way I see it, you can either tell me now when I'm ready to listen, or I can shoot both of your kneecaps, and _then_ you can tell me." Ada gritted her teeth. Through a small porthole between her feet, she saw water overtake the entire bow of the ship where she had been about 5 minutes earlier. If Irving didn't cough anything up soon, things were going to get interesting very fast. "I already have an idea of who you're working for. It's not the average terrorist who can get a sample of the T series. I'll drag you off this ship with bleeding knees if I have to."

"Sounds like fun, but I think I'll pass. At least you'll be going down on me," cackled Irving, causing Ada to suppress a gag at his choice of words.

A low buzz sounded over the rumbling of the sinking ship. She realized what it was immediately: helicopter. She swore and swung out of cover just as Irving did, but he beat her to the punch, fired his gun, and forced her back. He jumped wildly across the slanted room to another hatch.

"Sucka!" he yelled back at her as he disappeared through.

Clawing her way up the angled bridge, Ada gave chase, but by the time she made it to the hatch, the helicopter that was Irving's getaway was already pulling away from the deck. He waved to her from the interior of it, then extended his middle finger with a triumphant grin. She responded by raising her gun and squeezing off one round. She heard it ricochet off the interior, causing him to shriek and tumble back. The craft spun and buzzed off towards the mainland.

Unable to hide her frustration, Ada slammed the rail, letting loose another curse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks go to Maiafay for beta reading this chapter!

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**Chapter 3  
**

The crowd rose to their feet, applause thundering as the last notes from Mozart's Don Giovanni overture fell from the orchestra's strings.

Crow was among the first to rise. He had one of the best views in the privacy of the mezzanine box seat in the Teatro alla Scala. There was something about music that always drove his emotions, and Mozart was no exception. He had been a master, composing the overture in a single night.

"An excellent performance, wouldn't you say, Excella?" he asked over the dying applause. The maestro returned to the stage, which increased the volume of clapping once again, this time adding in a foray of whistles and cheers.

Beside him, Excella Gionne rose more slowly, but looked please nonetheless, joining the applause with her own, though muted through the fabric of her opera gloves. "Very," she called back. "One of my favorite pieces. It's a pity that Albert wasn't able to enjoy it with us as well."

He suppressed a grin. He _had_ extended the invitation to Wesker at Excella's request, to which he was flatly denied. His partner was a far more wanted man than himself, and getting him to participate in anything but research in an isolated lab was nearly impossible. In addition, he doubted Wesker even enjoyed music. "He apologized, and said he would have loved to come, but couldn't be pulled away from his current project."

It took some time for the crowd to file out of the theater, especially after the lengthy ovation. There was a reception in the theater museum for VIPs, one that he would have very much liked to have attended, but he needed to keep a low profile. Excella had been attracting paparazzi by the droves with her new promotion. Getting into the theater had been taxing enough. Factoring in other celebrities attending the concert, attracting more cameras and eyes, and he was content with waiting patiently for the box foyer to empty.

"My own apologies once again for not being able to procure the Royal Box for your celebration tonight, Excella," he said. "I insisted on making this evening extra special, but the British Royal family is hard to sway when they want to see the same event."

Excella chuckled, patting him on the arm assuringly. "You apologize far too much, James. This is the third time you have mentioned it, and this will be the third time I will ignore it."

Their escorts, three suited guards with earpieces, arrived at the box, carrying their coats. He would make certain to help Excella into hers, a lush ivory chinchilla with wide, kimono style sleeves.

She looked absolutely stunning, dressed in a long flowing evening gown a lighter shade than her coat. It cinched around her waist like a corset, with an ample dip in the neckline and no back.

"It's such a shame for the evening to end so quickly," he remarked casually as he slid the exotic coat over her shoulders. "Perhaps we could find something else to do? One call and I could have a room cleared for us at the Barretto al Baglioni, dinner for two."

"And it would be charming," Excella assured him, buttoning the front of the coat until the fur tickled at her chin. "But I think it best we head back to the plane. I'm due at Tricell headquarters in three days, and there's much that needs to be transferred from my villa to the new facility."

"Intent on working even now?" he asked with a smile, even though he already knew the answer. Disappointing, to say the least. One of the Tricell agents helped him into his own coat, a long black cashmere that swept around his knees. "I thought this was supposed to be an earned reprieve for your promotion, away from all the science and labs."

Indeed, this was Excella's second promotion in the last sixth months. He knew that supplying her with information would produce results, but he never dreamed that she would advance so quickly through the ranks at Tricell. He was still amazed to know the reason why she hadn't been promoted earlier: her Gionne lineage was only an offshoot of the founders of Tricell. With his and Wesker's help, they had proven the corporation wrong.

Now, if only she would be a little more…open with their relationship. But nonetheless, he was slowly winning her over little by little. Crow had a feeling she was just after the power he represented, but he was confident that more intimate feelings would begin to show soon. At any rate, who was he to complain about being on the receiving end of her charm?

The guards formed a hollow triangle for them to move in. The box foyer had already emptied with people attending the reception; either that or it had been cleared by the Tricell agents.

He offered his arm to Excella, and she all but hung off of him. Together, they exited the theater through a side entrance, away from the waiting crowds of people and cameras that might catch a glimpse of him. A long white Rolls Royce limousine was already waiting for them. Rain had passed earlier that night; all that was left was the wet ground with a few shallow puddles, and the skies had opened up to reveal stars and a partly waxing moon.

One of their escorts opened the rear door, allowing Crow to help Excella into the interior by the hand. He then slid in next to her, and the limo turned out onto the street. The roads leading out from the theater were packed, maintained by the local police in mirrored vests and flashlights. Fortunately for them, their driver was able to pull enough influence to get them through a barricade quickly and on their way to the airport. Behind them, the three agents rode in an unassuming black sedan.

"Since you are so intent on working at the moment, perhaps you would like to tell me how are the latest 343's coming along?" Crow asked.

"They are developing well enough," Excella said. "Reversing the genetic necrosis was troubling for some time, but Albert was very helpful in correcting it. We've managed to produce a stable prototype for now." She glanced at him mischievously. "Just in time for a little surprise…"

"Oh?" he asked with a grin. He slid closer to her, nonchalantly running a hand along her leg. "What surprise would that be?"

"I'm sure you've heard stories of a plan to combat bioterrorists? President Graham is very confident in the results, even going so far as to 'send us a message' as he put it in his last speech." She leaned into him, fur settling against cashmere. "Well, I'm going to send him one back."

"And just how do you plan on doing that?"

Excella smirked, reaching up to tease his chin with her satin-covered finger. "I said it will be a surprise. You'll just have to wait to find out…"

He smiled back. "That project is very near and dear to you. If you're intending to use it in a surprise, then it must be quite something."

Wesker had forwarded him the results of the 343 Decimator series, an extension of Umbrella's work. Specifically, it was an improvement on the Eliminator series and their work on primates. Crow had examined all of Excella's work on the project, and nearly all of it was seamless. It was her first notable accomplishment with the resources he and Wesker had given her.

Normally, Wesker wouldn't waste his time with a dead-end project that Umbrella never finished, but he wanted to test Excella. It was the first time Crow had seen him impressed with someone, and he seemed rather reluctant to contact Tricell to begin with. In order to appease his own conscience, he insisted that Excella prove herself worthy of his own time. How had he put it?

'_She's no William Birkin, but what she lacks in brilliance she makes up for in sanity.'_

A low chirp sounded from Excella's handbag. She pulled out the culprit, her cell phone. "Yes?" She listened for a minute, carefree, and then a furrow creased her forehead. "_Bastardo_," she swore. "Where?" She listened more. "Tell him to wait. I will be there shortly."

"Is something the matter?" Crow inquired. Rarely did he hear Excella swear in any form, English or otherwise.

"Yes," she replied, snapping her phone shut. "Unexpected business."

She called to the driver another address in Italian, and then leaned back in the cushions of the leather seat. _Angry, yet still beautiful_, Crow admired. She had quite possibly the most perfect face he'd ever seen, with her glossy lips in a furious pout and her green eyes glaring venomously. Her long black hair usually never left its flawless beehive, and tonight it looked marvelous with the long diamond earrings that dangled beneath it.

The limousine took a turn off the main road and onto a side street, and then drove a few more blocks before turning once again, moving deeper into a darker part of the city. Eventually, they arrived at their destination. Crow glanced out the window to settle his own unease, but no other cars had followed besides their escorts. This was a risky move on Excella's part, meeting with someone in person. With the entire world on edge after the fiasco with the Global Pharmaceutics Consortium, the last thing he needed was the vice-CEO of Tricell meeting people in shady locations.

The rear door of the car in front of them opened, and out stepped a short but lanky man hunched over in the darkness. He opened the limousine door after a quick, nervous look around, and then slid into the interior opposite of them. Crow suppressed a curl of his lip at the appearance of the ratty man. Greasy, stringy hair, a scent of sweat, and a mismatched wardrobe of blue jeans and dust-colored suit coat.

Excella glared at the man and pursed her lips. The eyes that had been batting at him all night burned now beneath the coal eyeliner, and long dark lashes. _Intoxicating._ She folded her hands on her lap, just below the fur of her jacket. "Ricardo, _darling_, would you be so kind as to explain why I am here? I should be unwinding in the cabin of my plane, enjoying a glass of wine with my handsome associate. Instead, I find myself sitting in this filthy part of town, staring at your equally repulsive face."

The man, Ricardo, ran a hand through his hair and blinked. Dark circles hung around eyes. "We was ambushed. After we made the exchange."

Excella paused after two blinks. "And the shipment? How much of it did I lose?"

He paused. "All of it."

Crow winced slightly as he realized what was going on.

Excella didn't react, other than continue to stare that same burning look into Ricardo. Crow had seen the way her eyes got glassy like a serpent's when she got angry. It was enough to make anyone uncomfortable; Ricardo was showing it through a few nervous shifts in the leather upholstery. Any second, he would see two holes burning where the man's eyes used to be.

Excella spoke very patiently. "Let me tell you some monetary values, Ricardo, and I suggest you tell me what they mean to you. The first one is easy: fifty-million, four-hundred thousand American dollars."

"I know what it cost, you gave me the money to pay for it," Ricardo snapped. He sulked like a child in the leather upholstery, even crossing his arms.

Excella nodded. "Good. Mind your tone. The next: two point eight billion Euros."

Ricardo thought for a second. "Dunno."

"That is my current net worth. As the new Vice-CEO of Tricell Pharmaceutics, I expect that to double within three months. It would do you well to remember who pays you. Now the last: two-hundred thousand American dollars."

Once again, Ricardo shrugged impatiently.

"That is exactly how much it would take to professionally kill you the second you step from my car. My men, however, will do it for free."

Upon hearing her simple ultimatum, Ricardo swallowed hard. His face had adopted a shiny pallor, and it wasn't even that warm in the limousine. Excella, on the other hand, hadn't changed at all, like some ice queen with frozen blood. The agents following them had stopped at the end of the block, no more than a phone call away.

Excella slipped her phone out of her handbag, casually sifting it through her fingers as if undecided whether to make the call or not. "Now, tell me what happened to this simple little deal I assigned you with, and why I lost over fifty million dollars of both mine and my company's money."

"It went down as planned." Ricardo said. "We gave them the cash, and I checked out the goods. It was everything you wanted, plus a few odds and ends they put with it. But like I said, either someone snitched, or we was compromised. We had the goods moving right on schedule, but the next thing I know, this bitch blows a hole in my boat. She damn near blew my head off, but lucky me, I's got contingencies, and-"

"She?" interrupted Crow, catching his eye. "Ah, Mister…?"

"Irving, and yeah, I said 'she'," replied Ricardo rolling his eyes. When not dealing with Excella herself, he seemed quite the cocky fellow, even smiling when he continued. "Asian bitch; a real looker. Didn't look like Feds or Interpol."

Crow struggled to keep the smile on his face from a grin. He glanced at Excella. "Well, I don't think it will take much effort to determine who the culprit is."

Excella shifted her irritated glare slightly to his direction, and he fell silent. She considered Irving for a moment, then glanced out the window. "What did she want, other than try to sabotage my company?"

"The bitch came after me, said she wanted to know who I was workin' for." He looked at Excella like that was worth something. "I told her to piss off and got the hell out of there."

For a few long moments, Excella remained silent. Crow could see her reflection in the window, and she appeared to be deep in thought, weighing two obvious choices.

Irving swallowed hard. "Look, I didn't tell her nothing, and if she knew who you was, she wouldn't have been trying to blow my balls off. With any luck, she probably went down with the ship."

Crow snickered.

Excella paused longer, and then her features relaxed. "Very well, Ricardo. I shall overlook this little setback this one time only. I'd rather not have to go through the annoyance of wasting a phone call on your miserable life."

Irving sighed audibly in relief, sagging a little bit. He still looked sweaty, but immensely relieved nonetheless. "I'll make it up to you. Scout's honor."

Excella didn't reply; she only shot him a look that may as well have screamed '_get out'_. Irving did so, and quickly.

Once he left, Excella's attitude calmed. Even though she wasn't glaring at him anymore, she still seemed to radiate some kind of anger or annoyance. In a clipped tone she ordered the driver to pull out, and they were soon heading back towards the airport where her private jet waited.

When the silence stretched to uncomfortable lengths, Crow shifted in his seat. "Don't let such a thing worry you, my dear. These types of situations are bound to happen, which is why we take precautions to make sure they don't interfere in the future. Tricell remains at the top, and Irving, unprofessional as he seems, has at least spared us a leak in intelligence."

He slung his arm over her shoulder, but to his surprise, she shifted away and looked out the window. "It would have been better if you had killed her when you had the chance," she said. "How many times could you have pulled the trigger when she was oblivious to your operations?"

His brow furrowed at Excella's sudden change in attitude. "I understand your feelings, Excella, but I assure you, killing Miss Wong was not a good idea. She was too dangerous, too clever, and there was no reason to believe she would pursue us this far. Perhaps her presence was entirely unrelated? Irving has his share of enemies. Ada could have committed to another organization…"

Ada Wong was the only thing he ever lied to Excella about. This wasn't the first time she had come up, and in fact, seemed to be one of the last things hindering his and Excella's relationship. There had been plenty of opportunities to do away with the troublesome operative, but he still found himself entranced with the Asian woman. Putting her down would be like killing the last of an exotic species.

However, he didn't like the fact that she appeared to be searching for him. If she was this committed, then things were bad.

"You may think so, but I disagree," Excella said, fishing out her phone again. She punched a number, muttering to herself. "Months of research and resources lost. Albert will be furious…"

"What are you doing?" He thought for a minute that she changed her mind about killing Irving.

"Tying up loose ends, like you should have done before investing in me." She lifted the phone to her ear. What followed was a stream of Italian that he couldn't understand, save for the name Ada Wong.

He didn't have to guess what she just said.

* * *

**Author's Note: Chapter 4 might be a little longer wait than usual because I'm going on a trip for a week. I've got it mostly written up, however, and as soon as I get back, I can finish it and work on getting it up. Thank you all for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"This _sucks_," Ashley Graham said loudly from the bathroom.

Leon Kennedy gritted his teeth in irritation. It was roughly the fifth or sixth time she had made that point known to him today alone, and that wasn't counting the last few days. He was inclined to agree with her.

This wasn't exactly how he had wanted to spend the trip to New York. He swore that he had gotten the short end of the stick, or was on the receiving end of a bad coin toss, or had somehow pissed off President Graham and Director Fischer at the same time without knowing it.

At any rate, he really didn't like having to literally babysit Ashley. The UN would have been far more interesting, being that he would need to keep up with security around President Graham. Here, he just needed to make sure the door stayed locked. The rest of the agents in the hotel would maintain the perimeter. If it was broken, then he had something to worry about.

"I just don't get why Dad won't let me enjoy the city while I'm here," she complained again, just visible in the crack of the ajar door, dragging a brush through her blond hair. "I've never even been to New York! I could have gone to the Museum of Modern Art, or have seen the sights downtown. Instead, I'm stuck here with you, and then I have to go and stand in front of a bunch of cameras for an hour while Dad goes on about national security."

"Yeah, and I'm having the time of my life over here…" Leon muttered to himself from his perch at the window.

"Huh?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "But you should support your Dad. He's going through a lot of stress right now, probably a lot more than other world leaders. Staying at his side in times like this is going to help him out a lot."

_And let's face it: we're more than a little understaffed. You could help by cooperating._

President Graham had come to New York to discuss a course of action with the rest of the world leaders at the UN. The growing rate of bioterrorism was too big for any single nation to handle alone. The recent scaling down of the Government Security Agency meant that Leon would have to once again exclusively devote his job to protecting Graham and his family. To be honest, it was boring work compared to what he was used to.

However, if there was one thing he couldn't complain about, it was the lodgings. He and Ashley had the entire Presidential Suite of the Waldorf-Astoria to themselves. President Graham had been rarely there the past few days, instead almost sleeping at the UN Headquarters between meetings every night. He wasn't accustomed to this type of splendor; security usually received run-of-the-mill rooms, often having to bunk up together. For once, being stripped of his secret agent status actually paid off.

Ashley, of course, had been delighted at the situation, at first. After Leon had gotten more than acquainted with her in Spain, she was happy to spend a week with her favorite agent in the same hotel room. He had thought turning her down during their escape from Saddler's island would be enough to put her off entirely, and for the most part, she backed off after that.

Being stuck in a luxurious hotel suite with him seemed to change her mind. The come-ons were subtle at first, but grew increasingly bolder. He was worried that one of these times she was going to try and force herself on him. Fortunately, Ashley had more sense than that.

It wasn't that she wasn't good looking; she was very full-figured for her age and didn't hesitate to capitalize on it. It was that he would have to be stupid to try anything with his boss's daughter, not to mention the fact she was barely old enough to drink. That was something Ashley still hadn't figured out.

When he made it very clear that he wasn't interested in anything more than her well being, the Ashley seemed to realize that this trip, was, in fact, a punishment. She stopped her almost-literal presentations to him, and instead grew sulky, often keeping to herself in her room. He was thankful for the quiet, but the trade off was that there was nothing to really do without her come-ons to shut down again and again.

Ashley stepped out of the bathroom with an exasperated sigh, then spread her arms. "Well, how do I look?"

She had on a black knee-length skirt and a matching blazer over a white blouse. It contrasted oddly with her bright blonde hair, and the thoroughly unhappy look on her face would have placed her better at a funeral. He was used to seeing her in more colorful, albeit provocative garb.

He shrugged as he turned away from the window. "Like the respectable daughter of President Jack Graham."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Leon said coolly, even if she really didn't want the compliment. Personally, he didn't mind an excuse to wear a suit and tie. "You ready?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with. As much as I hate sitting around, I'd rather do that then be a trophy for Dad on camera."

Leon escorted Ashley out of the suite, giving a nod to one of the agents roaming the halls before speaking into the radio on his wrist to the rest of the Secret Service. "This is Kennedy, Princess is en route."

It was worth it to see Ashley scowl whenever she heard her assigned name. He found it very fitting.

They left through the front lobby as its famous bronze clock chimed the Westminster Quarters. All around them, Leon picked out the planted agents that were watching the entrance as civilians. It wasn't hard when you looked for their earpieces. A few other Secret Service agents were waiting for them in front of the hotel with the three black SUVs that would serve as transport. Leon helped Ashley into the middle vehicle and slid in next to her. "Princess is loaded up. Arrival at destination in ten."

Once within the safety of the car, they made their way towards the UN Headquarters. It was actually a short distance from the Waldorf, only around seven city blocks, but for a high profile person like the President's daughter, a lot could happen in such a short distance. The worst, however, was listening to Ashley lament on not being able to use her father's limo.

Situated right on the banks of the East River, the UN had been seeing a lot of activity in the past year as terrorist attacks escalated. Today was even worse as the convention drew the biggest horde of press and media compared to the earlier days. The convoy had to slowly move through the sea of people that choked the roads as they approached, eventually coming to a stop in front of the building.

As soon as Ashley stepped out of the car, it was all Leon and several other agents could do to keep her from being trampled by the press. They were eventually aided by the police, and Leon took her by the upper arm moving through the area as fast as he could. Reporters and journalists shouted questions at her, desperate for any information that even the President's daughter might know.

He had to bat away several reaching hands, but they soon they broke free from the mob, passing through another line of security that held the crowd back and entered the building. Ashley smoothed her clothes, looking unhappier than ever.

"God, kill me now," she moaned.

"Hang in there, kid," Leon said with a chuckle.

They joined up with a few other agents, and Ashley left with them to go join the media in preparation for the speech. Leon took the opportunity to go meet up with Fischer, who was hovering outside of the large conference room; ever since the cutbacks at the GSA, his own boss had been doing his part to bolster security.

He sighed, making a quick detour to a catering table to grab a cup of coffee. Ashley had taken a little more out of him than he thought.

* * *

"Alright, Kennedy," Fischer began as he and Leon escorted Graham towards the front of the UN. A small stage and podium had been set up on the steps for his speech. "You're in charge of security up front. I'll be manning the outer perimeter. We have a few of our people within the crowd to help keep tabs, not to mention the spotters in the surrounding windows."

"Got it."

Outside, he was greeted by a sea of cameras and people, a nightmare for any security team. Nonetheless, he assumed his perch, just off to the left of Ashley, who would be just on the edge of the cameras. Graham stepped up to the podium fishing into his inner jacket pocket to grab his speech notes.

"People of New York, and people of the world," he began once the cameras were rolling. "I know that these recent times have been taxing on all of us. It feels like we are running out of allies; the Global Pharmaceutics Consortium has tried to correct things in the past, but I understand the distrust that some may feel against it…"

Leon slowly scanned the crowd of faces and cameras. The occasional camera flash tore at his attention, but he steeled himself and focused harder. There had been more presidential assassination attempts than people thought, but they usually failed out of incompetence. But it was no excuse to relax; even these short term public appearances put Graham in danger, especially in times like this, and especially when he was exposed in an outdoor public speech.

"…what we now need is an organization that everyone can trust, and that everyone can rely on. It is not my intention to put another military force on this world, which is why I invited our fellow nations to come up with a solution that would benefit us all. It has come into agreement to give control to the people of the world, and not an organization. This new arm of the people, titled the Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, will be dedicated the new threat to our safety that has arisen. "

Graham continued his speech, talking about the objectives of the BSAA as well as their operating potential. Leon caught Ashley's eye. Her bright beaming smile looked utterly fake. He never saw her that happy about anything in the political world. She almost looked happy in a scary way. He looked away, back to his job of watching for signs of danger.

"…each nation will command their own branch for the benefit of its people, and each nation will assist their neighbors in times of crisis. The BSAA's sole purpose is the protection of civilians against any bioterror threat, relying on quick, efficient deployment, and unmatched expertise…"

"_Enrico here, might have a problem._"

Fischer's voice was next in Leon's earpiece. He spotted his boss, hugging the edge of the crowd and speaking to his wrist as he eyed the crowed. "_What is it Rico?_"

"_Large truck parked illegally on 44__th__. No driver in sight, right on the edge of our perimeter._"

"_When did it pull up?_"

"_Not sure, no one can confirm when it arrived. It looks like it's been here for a while._"

Leon narrowed his eyes in thought. Scanning the crowd became background noise to him for a few seconds as he tried to picture what Rico was seeing. Then he realized what he was doing and snapped back to attention, cursing at himself internally for letting his attention waver.

"_Kennedy, see anything suspicious up front?_"

He focused back on his task and scanned the crowd thoroughly again, including the line of buildings on the other side of the street. Nothing. He lifted his wrist to his mouth. "Negative."

"_Rico, if there's no driver, sweep it,_" Fischer radioed. "_All positions standby. Anything red-flags, be ready to move Paragon._"

His mouth went dry. Situations like this were the worst. It could be that the truck was parked illegally because someone did it on accident, out of haste or ignorance. This _was_ New York, after all. Parking violations were a dime a dozen. Or, it could be something far worse, like a bomb ready to go off. Maybe not to kill, but to send a message. Or maybe to cause enough chaos to distract security while a shooter gunned down Graham. There were dozens of different possibilities.

"_Standby, checking it out now._"

A minute passed, then two. When it stretched to three, his gut tightened further. Fischer apparently thought the same way.

"_Rico, what's going on?_"

Enrico didn't reply. Then he heard the screams.

Dozens of people were pouring into the intersection off of 44th street. Like a ripple, all the heads in the crowd turned, including the cameras, away from Graham, who stopped speaking abruptly.

Something bounded into the street after a pedestrian. Leon caught a flash of red and black, and then it was on the man, tearing and smashing. Cries of agony were quelled as a giant fist crushed his skull, smearing bone, blood, and gore onto the pavement.

He could only stare in shock as the creature lowered its head and began to feast on the corpse. It was massive, standing on squat hind legs with muscular arms, half the size of a compact car. Its body was mostly a shiny mass of muscle and sinew, striped with greasy black fur. Fangs jutted out of an elongated head. It looked like someone skinned a gorilla, then fed it steroids.

_-holy shit-_

A split second later, all hell broke loose. The crowd moved like water from behind a burst dam, everyone screaming and yelling. More creatures emerged into the intersection, and then bounded towards the fleeing pedestrians in loping strides.

"_CODE RED!_" Fischer screamed. "_EXTRACT PARAGON, NOW!_"

The Secret Service was already swarming over Graham, guns drawn, pulling him back towards the UN Headquarters, and presumably, a means of escape. The sea of people was carnage; everyone was pushing, shoving, and screaming to get away. Leon tore through the crowd that quickly swarmed the podium to assist his fellow agents.

A fleeing cameraman bumped into Ashley, knocking her to the ground as Leon was still in process of muscling his way through. Another agent was helping her up, but one of the creatures was suddenly bearing down on them with frightening speed, knocking stragglers away like they were nothing.

He drew his Sig Sauer, but hesitated when he lifted the gun. Civilians packed his gun sights. The other agent bravely tried to put himself between Ashley and the thing, but it simply lifted a fist, bashing him out of the way. The agent fell, blood pouring from his crushed skull.

Leon swore and aimed again, then fired a volley into the creature's back. Other than turning around and roaring at him, they didn't seem to have any effect. But he had drawn its attention away from Ashley. It charged him, and Leon fired into the mass of muscle. It wasn't until the fourth round that penetrated its skull did the creature collapse onto the ground, only feet from him.

Ashley had frozen. She sat on her butt, staring at the heap that almost turned her to a pulp. Leon grabbed her by the collar and hauled her to her feet. "Come on! We need to move!" He whirled around, trying to locate the other Secret Service, but everywhere was panic. There were only half a dozen of the creatures, but way more than a dozen bodies lay strewn around. There was no sign of Graham or other agents.

"_Kennedy! We've got Paragon!_" Fischer's voice. He sounded horrified, but there was a sense of control in his voice, years of experience keeping his senses in place. "_Secure Princess! Get her out of there!_"

"Got it!" he yelled into his wrist, then pulled Ashley along by the arm. Fischer had Graham safe, but it was up to him to get his daughter to safety.

Ashley seemed to snap out of her funk as he touched her, moving quicker, but Leon still hauled her along by the wrist. Her dress heels were gone, and she ran on nylon covered feet. Together they broke free from the plaza where the speech was held, heading towards the front doors of the UN HQ. He didn't have to fight off all of them; he just needed to get Ashley out of harms way until back up arrived.

At the same time, he tried not to think about the people being left behind.

When another one of the creatures broke free of the mayhem and started to lope after them, Leon realized that these things were targeting them. They had been attacking civilians, but whenever they drew close to Graham or Ashley, they forgot about everything else. He really didn't know how, or care; all he knew it was going to make his job a lot harder.

The glass doors that gave entrance to the lobby only slowed them down. Halfway across the wide open floor, crashing behind them signaled the creature simply smashing through after them.

"Ashley, through the first door you see!" Leon yelled, nearly throwing her forward. She scampered off, somehow staying on her feet as he skidded to a halt, then turned and aimed at the monster, wishing he had something bigger than nine millimeter. He drained the rest of the magazine into its frame, but only succeeded in making it stumble as one round clipped an eye. It fell on its face, then roared and got back up, but Leon was already running after Ashley.

He rounded the corner just in time to see Ashley bolt through an open door. The thing was back on his trail, and he wasn't sure if he could successfully lead it away. If he tried, it might ignore him altogether and go straight for her, and if it did, he probably wouldn't be able to stop it in time. He needed to kill it, and in order to do that, he needed to get a clean shot.

He barreled through, and Ashley slammed the door behind him. They were inside a small, windowless office.

"Get back!" he yelled as he released the spent magazine from his gun. Just as he slammed his only spare in, the door exploded off its hinges as Ashley screamed.

It wasn't big enough to fit through the door, but it hardly mattered. The creature simply pulled itself through, taking most of the frame and wall down. It reached for him with a meaty hand, and in the scramble back he tripped.

A wave of foul breath hit him as it snarled and crawled over him, moving faster than its size should have allowed, then lifting a fist. He stuck the gun up and pulled the trigger as fast as he could, each gunshot loud as thunder in the tiny room as it spit smoking brass from the ejection port.

_BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM_

When the gun clicked dry, the creature's face was nothing more than a shredded mess of flesh and bone, and it slumped down, landing on his legs. He stifled a grunt of disgust from its shocking weight; it was surprisingly warm, but wet and furry feeling as its blood soaked into his slacks.

Sweating profusely from the sudden rush, he jerked his legs free from under the corpse, scooting back until the wall stopped him. Dust and plaster spilled from the broken wall began to settle. Everything was quiet.

_Way, way, WAY too close!_

Ashley sat in the corner of the room, her eyes wide and shimmering. She had seen some disturbing things in Spain during her abduction, and from what Leon knew, she was still in therapy. This stuff still terrified him, and he was trained to deal with it. But Ashley was still a kid at heart, and he could start to see her breaking down after how close death had come.

"This is Kennedy, Princess is secure," he said into his wrist, then rubbed his clammy face. From somewhere near his shoulder, hanging on a wire, he heard Fischer reply. He didn't even know when his earpiece had fallen out. He could just hear the faint voice enough to make out about things in control.

Ashley clung to him when he moved next to her, and he hooked an arm around her shoulder in comfort. There was a faint chatter of gunfire outside, what sounded like automatic weapons. It went on for the next few minutes, and then died down, followed by emergency sirens.

"Don't worry Ash, you did good," he said heavily, loosening the tie around his neck. "You're okay now."

She buried her quivering cries into his chest, while he patted her back and stroked her hair, repeating the same things over and over. He just wish he had someone to do the same for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Her cab driver pulled to the side of the curb, and Ada exited, giving him a handful of Liras for the trip. The complex that rose above her was enormous. It was a bank, consisting of three separate high rises of steel and russet colored metal, joined into one large building. After doing a little bit of homework, she found that it was easily the largest and most prominent bank in downtown Istanbul, and it handled the accounts and money of some very important people.

_Well, it certainly looks like I'm getting somewhere. Whoever paid Irving for that last deal has some very deep pockets._

She held her PDA up to scan her information one last time before she entered. The only solid piece of evidence she had was the bank account number TR34 0003 1013 1913 4443 7687 54, taken from a tablet of papers she grabbed in the bridge of the sinking freighter a few days ago. It was a wonder she was able to salvage anything after her less-than dry escape.

The account number itself didn't mean a thing to her, but a few shady characters were willing to help figure it out when she dished out enough cash. The letters TR were an ISO country identifier, which was Turkey, and a little more digging placed the account in Istanbul, one of the world's banking hubs.

What she had wasn't much, but she had pinged one of Irving's clients, or at least somewhere that cleared their funds, and that was at least a start. They could tell her how to find him, and possibly have more information about the weapons he was selling and where he was obtaining them. The only task left was to actually find out who held the account, and then find them.

She waded through the throngs of people that constantly entered and re-entered the building's revolving doors, dressed in a slick, black striped business suit from Armani and toting a slim leather briefcase. Her Storm was tucked inside her jacket underneath her arm in its holster, her grapple gun on her ankle, hidden by the wide cuffs of her slacks. Coming in armed was risky, but she had half a dozen excuses ready if questions (or worse) arose. She was playing the personal accountant of a person who had dealings with a black market weapon distributor; why wouldn't she be armed? On a more public note, she was just a high profile accountant with sensitive information.

The plan was simple: charm and force her way in to whoever handled the account and try to find something about the account holder. They were confirming shady purchases on a regular basis, so it probably meant they were in the loop with whoever was doing the deals.

If her initial infiltration plan failed, she would have to settle for breaking in at night, and as she crossed the busy lobby, it looked like that would be difficult, if not outright impossible. Cameras hung from the walls, and there were about half a dozen armed guards in the lobby, one of which had an automatic weapon slung over his shoulder.

She got into a line at the row of tellers on the other side of the lobby, continuing to discreetly scan her surroundings from behind her sunglasses. _If I'm going to break in, it's not going to be through the front door, that's for sure._ About twenty minutes later, the last person in front of her completed their business, and she stepped to the counter. The teller looked up, greeting her with a smile. It was an international bank, so he was probably waiting to hear what language she spoke.

"I have a problem with my client's account, and I need to speak with someone about it immediately," Ada said in her best business tone as she removed her shades.

"Certainly, _hanım_," the teller replied, his voice laced with a heavy accent. "Perhaps it is something I can help you with?"

She gave an airy laugh. "Not likely. If it was, I wouldn't have wasted the trip to come here myself." The ever bitchy, yet professional attitude seemed to work the most, especially when dealing with the upper echelon of society. She fished out her PDA, showing him the account number. "This is the account. If you could direct me to the person who has access to the records, I would appreciate it."

The teller peered at the screen, then typed some information into his computer. He scrolled through some pages, and then hit a few more keys. "It appears that Samet _bey_ is the accountant in charge."

"May I speak with him please?"

The teller frowned. "I apologize, but we cannot divulge information about accounts without first confirming who has access to them. If you could please provide some proof?"

She replaced her PDA back in the inner pocket of her blazer with an irritated sigh. "You said that only Mr. Samet has access to the account? Well, _I _don't make it a habit about sharing information about _my_ clients. Now if you would, please let Mr. Samet know that I would very much like to speak with him on a very private and important matter concerning my client's account. I'm sure he'll understand."

This time, the teller sighed, and then decided that she was far too much trouble to contest again, not to mention he would be ruining the bank's reputation on politeness and efficient service that had been plastered on their website. He left his counter, moving to a phone on the back wall. Ada glanced over her shoulder. Two customers had filed in behind her a few minutes ago, and now there was a third waiting. She tried to not look suspicious glancing back.

The teller returned. "Samet _bey_ is currently busy at the moment, but he would be more than happy to arrange a meeting with you. If I could get your name and the reason why you are visiting today visit today, in addition to your phone number, I will relay the message at once so that we may arrange an appointment at a better time."

It was another subtle nudge to push the ball back into her court. Fortunately, she had one last card to play, one that would probably scare them into letting her through.

She smirked and tapped her fingers on the smooth marble counter. "Listen to me very closely, because you clearly didn't tell him who I was. He knows who this account belongs to, and I said I needed to speak with him _now._ My client just realized that millions of US dollars were 'misplaced' from his account." She was sure to articulate that amount very carefully. "As his personal accountant, who manages everything perfectly on my end, I took the time to fly a considerable distance to clear the matter up at the source. He wouldn't want it any other way." She leaned forward on the counter still smiling. "If I don't get a chance to speak with Samet, never mind what my client will do, _I_ will personally make sure this bank is ruined, starting by taking your job."

Customers threatening a business usually never worked, but the fact that she both looked and played the part and knew enough about the account made her threat seem very real. The teller stuttered when he reassured her that there was no need to get upset or make a scene, and that there was no need to bring in any legal action of any kind. He once again left the counter to make a call, but came back very quickly this time.

"Samet_ bey_ would be more than happy to speak with you," he said brightly, motioning to the elevators at the far end of the lobby. "His office is on floor thirty-seven. I shall guide you there-"

"No need," she interrupted crispy, already walking towards the elevators. "Floor thirty-seven. I can find it myself."

"Ah, yes of course. May I please send him your name so that he may greet you upon your arrival?"

"Liz Fan."

She set her teeth when she approached the security checkpoint before the elevators. Unsurprisingly, the metal detector's claxons went off as soon as she stepped through. One of the uniformed guards stepped forward, holding up a hand and letting out a stream of Turkish that she couldn't understand, but probably requesting her to step back.

Ada raised her own hand. "Ah, I don't think so," she said with a laugh, not halting her stride. The guard almost stepped in front to block her, but the teller at the counter was waving his arms furiously, motioning for the guard to just let her pass. Security backed off, and she let out a hidden sigh of relief, feeling a little better that she was able to stay armed for what was going to happen.

Light, jazzy music was there to greet her as the elevator opened with a _ding,_ and continued up to the thirty-seventh floor. She was feeling pretty optimistic, though she was trying to stay realistic. Getting into the lions den was pretty simple, so to speak, but grabbing a slab of meat and getting out was another story.

Upon exiting the elevator, a sign on the floor greeted her and indicated this was the second level of personal accounting, and a directory pointed down the hall to Emin Samet.

This floor of the bank didn't hold the same exquisite look of the lobby; it looked more like a typical office building. Everything was spotless and maintained, and lit with the neutral white of fluorescent lighting. The hall opened up to a larger room as she progressed, filled with a cubicle maze and some side offices behind glass walls. Samet's office was tucked away at the end of the hall, just past the larger room.

She knocked firmly on the heavy oak door bearing a plate with his name, and it opened nearly immediately, as if he'd been waiting for her. A middle-aged Turkish man in a white dress shirt and tie greeted her with a smile. "Fan _hanım, _it is good to meet you!"

Ada stuck out her hand, which he took. "Liz Fan. A pleasure, Mr. Samet."

He let her into his office, a spacious room with a desk, a couch, a small table, a bookcase, and even a small fridge in the corner. He was all but groveling at her presence in the way he moved and talked, offering her refreshments, which she declined.

_Play it cool. Answer his questions, and he'll probably buy whatever you give him if you act mysterious and aggressive._

"If I may say so, I am curious as to why we have not met before," he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. "Mr. Spencer never mentioned having a personal accountant."

Not five minutes in, and she had a name. "That's because he usually doesn't need my services. As we both know, he likes to handle things himself. I'm more of…an advisor, of sorts."

"And may I ask why I was not contacted directly? I apologize for the inconvenience upon your arrival, but usually these things are handled by me directly."

"Mr. Spencer isn't the type to coddle me," she said, feigning amusement as she sat down and crossed her legs. "When he says something needs fixing, he tells me where, and I go. His personal business isn't my business, so the fewer names I know the better. Besides, I'm a big girl. I can figure these things out by myself."

He was subtly trying to test her. Her con at the front desk might have worked, but Samet was a little smarter. If she really was his client's personal accountant, then he was right: she would have contacted him directly. However, she played to his fears. Maybe she wasn't an accountant at all, and this was just a cover to shake him down in person for screwing up.

"From what I am able to gather, this is quite an alarming situation," he said. Ada noted that he looked calm, but he seemed fidgety while trying to act nonchalant. He may have always been like that, but she got the distinct impression that he was nervous about her. "I assure you, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary when I cleared the transaction. Mr. Spencer contacted me through the usual channels, and I merely did as I was requested."

"Well, clearly, Mr. Spencer _didn't_," she said. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be here." She cocked her head, giving him a cold stare. "How long have we been doing business, Mr. Samet?"

"Mr. Spencer has had banks within this country since well before I chose my profession." He offered a weak smile. "Never before has a mix up like this occurred, and I assure you-"

"You don't have to assure me that it won't happen again, because it won't," she interrupted. "You didn't think a transaction like this was a little odd?"

"Well, yes, a little. Normally, Mr. Spencer is quite selective on what he purchases, so I was very surprised when he requested a money transfer like this. He did not say what it was for, but only that it was very important, and that the recipient receive notice of it quickly. I transferred the money, and had no indication that something was wrong."

"Why don't you let me see who the money was transferred to?" Ada suggested. "I'm sure Mr. Spencer would love to know who tried to screw him over. I would too, actually. I don't like it when I have to clear my schedule and take a red-eye flight."

"That would be no problem, Miss Fan," he agreed, beginning to work on his computer. "I can bring it up right here on my terminal." He worked in silence for a few minutes, while Ada drummed her fingers in an impatient manner on her leg. "May I have the new routing number Mr. Spencer issued?"

"Ah…I thought you already had it." She felt like wincing as the cold accountant exterior wavered noticeably. A silence stretched over the office as he stopped typing. They both eyed each other, and Ada knew her cover was blown.

Samet reached for the phone in a flash, but she was already out of her seat, clapping her hand on top of his then driving her fist into his temple. He crumpled and fell off his chair, knocking the phone out of the cradle. She vaulted the desk just as he was getting back up, then grabbed him by the collar and gave him a quick knee to the ribs before shoving his head onto the desk.

Once he was properly stunned and writhing on the ground, she snatched her case off the ground and opened it up, reaching past a few decoy folders for a small roll of duct tape. She once again hauled him up by the collar and tossed in his office chair, and in a few minutes, she had his wrists secured to its arms with a few layers of the silver tape.

"Sit and be quiet," she ordered, wrapping a few bands of the silver tape around his torso to keep his wriggling down, then slapped a rectangle over his mouth and left him to feel his welts begin to rise. She might have broken his nose when she slammed his head; blood was pouring from both nostrils over the band of tape and dripping onto his shirt.

His keyboard and mouse was knocked askew, but they still functioned as she started to rifle through his computer. The operating system was fairly user friendly, and Samet had already queued up the right area of the system. After a little more digging and some tapping on the keyboard, she got into a folder marked for private. A screen prompted her for a password.

She ripped the tape off of Samet's mouth. "What's the password?"

"_Sürtük_!" he yelled, prompting her to replace the tape, not exactly sure what he just said. It probably wasn't nice. She was just concerned about the noise attracting people.

To further prove just who was in control, she backhanded him across the face, then drew her gun and pressed it to his jaw. "What's the password?" she demanded again.

He only glared at her, but she took his silence for cooperation and peeled the tape back again. Slowly. He grimaced as the bloody, sticky tape was cleared from his mouth. "Go ahead and shoot, _sürtük. _It won't get you into my files, and will only serve to get yourself killed! I don't think you're stupid enough to kill me."

Ada considered his response. She once again did not have a silencer, so any shot would cause someone to investigate. Maybe not security right away, but soon, once an armed person was discovered in the building. That left out putting a bullet in this thigh. Samet had to have the answers she needed, but she didn't have the time to interrogate him, nor was it the place to do it, and she couldn't kill him.

That left two options. Beat it out of him, which may not work, and would be loud and messy, or intimidation. She grinned.

"I'm not stupid enough to kill you, you're right. But who said I was going to?" She dropped the gun from his chin, instead burying it into his crotch. "So let's replay that situation. How about instead of killing you, I give you a sex change, free of charge?"

Samet's darker skin paled. "You…you wouldn't dare!"

Her only response was pulling the hammer of her gun back. Samet's eyes went wide.

"Okay, okay! I'll tell you!"

"Good boy," she cooed with a grin, easing the hammer back.

It was an alpha numeric password, consisting of a word in Turkish that she had to get twice from him because she couldn't spell it out. When she got access, she replaced the tape over his mouth and continued in silence. There were dozens upon dozens of records within the folder, and she didn't have time to go through them all at the moment, so instead she connected her PDA to the modem and began to download.

Her device chirped pleasantly a minute later, indicating that a few gigabytes of information were now hers. Just as she broke the connection with the computer, something tackled her from behind, slamming her over the desk. Samet had quietly broken free, and she had been too focused on the download to notice.

In the scuffle, the computer monitor was knocked to the floor, along with the keyboard, her PDA, and her gun. He was in no way an overly fit man, but he wasn't wiry either, and had gotten the drop on her. Both of his arms were wrapped around her body, pinning her arms to her side as his weight pressed her body onto the oak top of the desk.

He wasn't a very smart combatant, however, and he tried to restrain her instead of following up by striking her from behind. Ada managed to wrench an arm free from his bear hug after a hard struggle and thrust it behind her, feeling it connect with the side of his head. It was just enough to loosen his grip for her to tear free, catching his arm into a hold as she spun away.

After another quick elbow strike, she wrenched his arm forward, smashing his nose onto the edge of the desk, putting him out for good. Only then did she notice why he was trying to hold her down. A small red light was blinking on his phone, and though she couldn't read Turkish, the button it was set next to was also lettered in red, like an emergency number.

_Shit._

She scooped up her PDA and her gun off the floor, concealed her weapon, then bolted for the door and cracked it open. The way was clear, and she moved into the hall, trying to act casual and hoping no one heard the tussle. Before she rounded the corner to go for the elevator, a pair of uniformed guards stepped into view.

They called to her and approached. She tensed, not sure if she should draw and shoot, but they were just innocents doing their job. Black market mercenaries were one thing, but she wasn't going to shoot a legitimate security guard until they shot first. On the other hand, if they found Samet while she was in their custody, she would be screwed, so at any rate, she was going to have to do something.

One reached out and grabbed her arm; she reacted quickly, sweeping his arm up and delivering a painful jab to his kidney. The other guard was a lot faster, drawing a baton from his belt and swiping for her head. She managed to block his arm before he cracked her skull open, then punched him across the face. She spun, chopping the first in the throat as she grabbed the wrist of the second and pulled forward, flipping him off his feet and painfully onto his back.

Both guards were down, but a third came around the corner, just in time to see the first one crumple. He drew his handgun, and she dove to the side, behind a cubicle wall as the shots rang out. Bank workers yelled and screamed, the ones closest to the exits running, others simply hitting the floor. More shots ripped through the cubicle wall, and she realized that a fabric and plastic wall wasn't good cover. She scooted to the side as more shots rang out, passing where she was just crouched.

She popped up and returned fire, managing to suppress the remaining guard behind a wall. Three more filed out the stairwell, one of which, to her dismay, was carrying a similar automatic weapon as she saw in the lobby. She managed to get off a few rounds, dropping one of them as they opened fire. The opposing return fire shredded her cover, forcing her to follow the cubicle wall deeper into the room.

The gunfire exchanges were quick and sloppy; half the time, it was all she could to stick her arm over the wall and squeeze off random shots after a quick peek. The wild return fire indicated the guards were doing the same, as cover was sparse. She managed to line up a better shot and graze one of the guards, then empty her clip to push the others back and give her enough time to vault one of the cubicle walls. Two more guards had joined the fray, handguns firing as soon as they stepped in.

The room was full of smoke, screaming, and debris. Everything reeked of cordite. She was outgunned, and both the stairs and elevator were cut off. In a few minutes, her last clip would go empty, and when she stopped firing, they would swarm her. The chattering of the submachine gun tore a line of holes just over her head, and the deafening boom of a shotgun removed an entire cubicle wall, sending a cloud of haze into the air next to her.

The far wall was floor to ceiling windows that lined the edge of the high-rise. She set her teeth, and then pulled the grapple gun from her ankle. As soon as there was a break in the gunfire, she popped up, firing blindly behind her as she sprinted to the windows as fast as she could.

It all happened in the course of a few seconds. Stray bullets whizzed past her. Windows cracked. The hook of the grapple shot into the wall. She lifted her arm. Impact, the sound of breaking glass, then the sensation of falling.

Thirty-seven stories above the street, she fell in an arc, and then locked the cable trailing from her gun. It snapped tight, her momentum almost yanking her from the grip, and just like that, she swung back towards the building. A very solid wall of glass shattered as she met it on the shoulder two floors down, but at least it wasn't solid concrete that would knock her senseless to her death.

The grapple gun was jerked from her hand, but she was thankfully lying on solid ground and, aside from a few scratches, unharmed. Oddly enough, it wasn't her first time pulling a trick like that, only last time she would up with a dislocated shoulder.

Glass fell from her clothes as she got to her feet with a grunt, a dozen aches vying for her attention. It was only now she noticed the woman pressed up against the wall, her eyes wide with shock. Ada had landed right next to her desk, no doubt pelting her with glass and scaring the hell out of her.

With the general well-being of an innocent civilian not too terribly pertinent to her, Ada left the room in a hurry. In the heat of the action, the security team above her might not catch on to what she did right away. They might just figure she plummeted to her death, but the more likely scenario was that they heard the second crash, saw the trailing cable, and were already moving to intercept her.

Somehow during the fall she managed to hold onto her Beretta, which had about half a clip left. She slipped it back into her holster. The accountant or cleaning lady, whoever, in the office had been so surprised at her entrance that she didn't even notice the gun.

She hit the door to the stairs and began circling the stairwell downward. It would have been a good idea to shed her outer blazer to try and change her appearance a little bit, but then she would have to toy around to get her holster off and find a new place to conceal her gun. She didn't know how organized the security force was, whether they were looking for an intruder or if the entire group knew to watch out for an Asian woman in a black suit. So instead, she made a beeline for the ground.

The lobby was still abuzz with its normal business by the time she got it, but as she stepped out onto the floor, a few security guards marched in through the doors. She lifted a hand to fix her hair, which needed it, but also to obscure her face as she walked briskly to the door. The guards began to approach people, ushering them towards the exits. Ada casually joined in with a few people, but not before someone called out to her.

"Fan _hanım_!" It was the teller from earlier. She wished she could have ignored him, but he came over to her. "Your business with Samet _bey_ is finished?"

"Yes, thank you," she replied crisply, not breaking her stride. "Everything was cleared up."

_Go away you annoying little man!_

"I am pleased to hear it! I wanted to apologize for the inconvenience earlier, and I hope it did not tarnish our bank's reputation."

"No hard feelings, I was just a little cross after a long flight, speaking of which, I have another to catch," she said quickly all in one breath. "Good day."

The teller finally bid her farewell just as she reached the revolving doors. Once outside, her sunglasses took the job of hiding her face, and she moved down the sidewalk, grabbing the first cab she could just as she heard the sirens in the distance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Ada purchased a train ticket under the identity of one of her aliases, and only a few hours after the bank infiltration she was sitting comfortably in a first class cabin on her way to Ankara, Turkey's capital. While not nearly the size of Istanbul, it was big enough for her to disappear easily, even if she was being hunted. Fortunately, she moved fast enough before the local law enforcement could tighten a net around transportation.

Once the train was moving and she was sure the Turkish government wasn't right on her heels, she let down her guard a little bit and ordered some tea from the steward. The business suit had been ditched at the train station in Istanbul, and she changed into something with a little more local flavor to blend in better; a brown loose fitting silk blouse and a pair of capris. She could have passed for a tourist on vacation, sampling some of the fashion. The look was completed with a pair of different sunglasses and a messenger bag slung casually over her shoulder.

The adrenaline crash was worse than the after effects of any caffeine rush, even when some of the edge was taken off from the ginseng in her tea. The cabin had a fold down bed for longer travels, which looked very tempting as the afternoon slowly became evening. Still, wanting to take a nap as she did, she dug out her PDA from her pocket. From the messenger bag she pulled out a laptop, and then booted both devices up.

The privacy of her cabin ensured a quiet environment to try and fish something out of the information without being disturbed. It might take her five minutes, five hours, or five days to find something, but she needed to know more about the account holder. They would eventually find out that she infiltrated and shot up the place, and might relocate. She needed to find them before that happened, and she wasn't sure what kind of clock she was facing.

"Alright, Mr. Spencer," she muttered to herself as the computer finished warming up. "Let's find out who you are."

She connected her PDA, then started a transfer to the laptop. The little device was a marvel to modern technology, not to mention a sexy spy tool, but it wasn't efficient enough for what she currently needed, which were a keyboard and a bigger screen.

She blew over the top of her tea and took a sip, then began to look at the files. However, her computer didn't house the same programs as the banks did. As a result, the data was a near incomprehensible mix numbers and image files. It took the better part of an hour to organize only a part of it, and at the very best, she was able to get it into a format that was legible. That was assuming, of course, that there was an order to it, and that it hadn't been stored randomly on the hard drive.

The numbers that did make sense right away were extraordinary. The previous years she had been in the organization had brought her into contact with enormous amounts of wealth, and her own personal accounts were nothing to blush at either, but the owner of the account blew both out of the water. There were cash records not only indicating ample amounts of deposits in Istanbul, but other bank accounts worldwide. Mixed in with it were lists of what could have been safety deposit boxes or other stashes that could have house more private matters.

_Like diamonds, gold bullion, or other swag that can't be easily converted to hard cash. I wouldn't have minded picking up a few spare diamonds while I was there._

As she dug deeper and deeper, more of the iceberg began to show. There were lists and records of bonds pertaining to several companies she recognized. They were large pharmaceutics companies, most of which went down when the Global Pharmaceutics Consortium tried to clear up the legal matter after the Raccoon Outbreak.

What was more, there was also an incomplete record of stocks the account held, and once again, many of them were with pharmaceutics organizations. It was a proverbial rollercoaster of financial ups and downs; companies that were hit hard after the outbreak obviously took a bite out of the wealth, but other companies that survived balanced the finances out.

She considered what she was looking at. Whoever had been dealing with Irving had a big interest in what was going on with the pharmaceutics companies over the past six years. Not only that, but some of the dates on the bonds were older than six years, before the whole mess in Spain brought Las Plagas into the mix.

_Maybe this could be Wesker and Crow's stash? They could have been planning this for years before Spain, just waiting for the right time. That makes sense, but why put all this time and cash into other markets? They would need a reason to lose cash from drowning corporations…_

Not to mention, the dates pushed even further back. Wesker, as cunning as he was, couldn't have made plans that far in advance…

…then again, underestimating Wesker was a bad idea.

She turned her attention to some of the image files, half hoping they would be a black or white answer to her questions. To her dismay, the first few were photocopied bank statements, most of the information on them blacked out. The next few were digital copies of stocks and bonds, just circular information confirming what she had gleaned from the data stream a few minutes before.

She opened another image file, and gasped audibly through her tea at what popped up. It was just another copied banking statement, but what brought her shock was the emblem in the corner of the official document, faded through years of storage and re-copying.

_Umbrella._

Sure enough, the old company's parasol logo was distinct, only black, white, and grainy on the screen instead of red and white. She could only stare at it in surprise for a few moments, her hand frozen over the computer's touchpad, and then she hastily set her tea to the side. A jolt on the tracks jostled her, sending a hot spill over the back of her hand that made her wince.

She dried her hand, the tea forgotten as she panned over every pixel of the image. Most of it was unreadable, but a date was just barely noticeable in one of the text boxes near the top of the statement. It was marked decades before the Raccoon Outbreak, back when Umbrella had been a thriving company.

Her hand trembled slightly in excitement as she scrolled down to the bottom of the image. The signature was at the bottom, clear as day. It was so obvious now; she should have made the connection as soon as Samet said the name.

Spencer. Ozwell Spencer.

The founder of Umbrella Corporation.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tricell facilities were state of the art, both in structure and in purpose. Crow usually preferred to stay out of the laboratory and research areas, but today was a different matter. He didn't care much for the spotless rooms of tile and stainless steel; that was more Excella's and Wesker's taste. They were boring, usually quiet with only the sound of instruments and glass coming into contact. Maybe he could have appreciated it more if he had Wesker's scientific mind.

Instead of the usual boring work, however, he had something to keep him entertained, namely, an infuriated Excella.

"_What do you mean you can't find her!_

The screech was even louder than normal due to the confined walls of the lab. The person on the receiving end of her verbal assault, a French woman that Crow figured was one of Tricell's security officers, flinched as Excella glared at her. "I'm sorry, Mademoiselle Gionne, but we have been unable to locate Ada Wong as you requested."

"Useless, every last one of you! How much has my company paid for your services? I expected better from former Commandement!"

"Perhaps…if you would give us permission to access government databases?" the woman asked meekly. "Our current resources are so limited. We might be able to-"

"And have a dozen countries descend on my company when they discover our operations?" she interrupted with an indignant hiss. "You stupid cow, I told you that there is to be no confrontation with government!"

Crow sat back and watched the whole spectacle comfortably from a lab stool. While it was a pleasure to see Excella so beautifully furious, he couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the other woman. She was just pushing middle-aged, with blond hair in a chic, yet strong, masculine cut. Her solid build, and the fact that Excella referred to her as former French special forces, spoke volumes of her experienced. She was dressed in a formal business suit, tan and striped black. Maybe a little old for his taste, but nonetheless a woman who looked like she knew how to maintain herself in more than one way.

The harsh reprimands continued endlessly, highlighting both her failures and uselessness to the company, and every so often Excella would switch back to her native Italian to let out a string of frustrated curses. The French woman actually winced as she leaned forward, yelling into her face with a jab of her fingers.

"_Andate tutti a 'fanculo! _Now get out of my sight!" she roared, and then spun away on her dress heels. The French woman remained frozen in place, still reeling from the effects of the assault, slowly backed away, then quickly left the lab.

Excella stalked back to her work station where he sat smiling. "I told you trying to track down Miss Wong wouldn't work."

Her face turned snake-like, green eyes glittering as she glared at him and bared her teeth. Crow submitted with another smile, accepting the fact that she was angry, but letting her know just how right he was all along. To an independent and haughty woman like Excella, that was punishment enough.

"You think this is funny?" she asked tightly.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he apologized quickly, getting up from his stool. He moved behind her, placing his hands onto her shoulders and lightly massaged them. "I shouldn't be so blunt. I realize what a situation this is for you, but why tax yourself needlessly over Ada Wong? The 343s performed marvelously in the field, and your work nearly brought the Americans to their knees. We should be celebrating the victory!"

The white labcoat over her dress was stiff and pressed under his hands, smelling of starch that mixed with other chemical smells from the lab. He much preferred the feel of the silk she wore beneath it; its skirt was so short that the hem of the coat nearly passed it.

Excella scoffed, but relaxed marginally under his hands. "I'm scrapping the entire line. Mindless brutes…Most were barely able to control themselves and attack the correct targets. I don't have need for such lack of subtlety. Had they been organized, Graham would have been dead." She sighed in frustration and shrugged his hands off. "And now this _brutta _is running around and I'm surrounded by incompetent fools! I paid for the best, and they still can't find her? If my captain wasn't so tightly tied to the public, I would turn her useless body into a test subject."

"Start thinking like that, and you'll end up just like Umbrella," he said, then cocked his head as an idea came to him. "Perhaps you've been overworking? You put a lot of time into the 343 series. Why not take a small vacation and do some traveling? I know a few places that are absolutely gorgeous this time of the year. It may help to get away from the rest of the world's noise."

"The idea sounds tempting," she replied, but he picked up a trace of sarcasm in her voice. "But I don't need a vacation. What I need is to strangle Ada Wong with my own hands." She made a show of squeezing her hands together, an oddly animated gesture coming from her. "Oh, the misery I will put her through when I find her…"

"Ada Wong can't be found because she doesn't wish to be found," a third voice chimed in.

Crow glanced over his shoulder. During Excella's hissy fit, Wesker had been brooding quietly at a workstation, mixing chemicals with his back turned to them, only now had he stopped. Crow saw his sunglasses in his hand, and he was rubbing at his eyes. Whether in fatigue or frustration he didn't know; he usually showed neither. The tone of his voice suggested that they had both missed something blatantly obvious, which sent a set off a ping of irritation in him, but Excella beat him to it.

"Oh, _clearly,_ Albert," she snorted. "I never dreamed the _brutta_ would want to try and hide after all the trouble she has caused. In fact, I was hoping she would turn herself in so I could execute her myself."

Crow folded his arms and ignored Excella sarcasm. She was venting frustration on anything that breathed. "Normally you don't spout off obvious facts without some purpose, Albert. I assume you're going somewhere with this?"

Wesker shifted on his stool, turning away from his neatly organized work, but not before replacing his glasses. Excella had yet to see the red cat irises that lurked behind the lenses. "That's just what it is: a fact. You can't find something that doesn't want to be found." He leaned back with a smooth casualness, as if talking about tomorrow's weather, tucking the tail of his labcoat back. Beneath it he wore a dark suit and tie, similar to Crow's own attire, but not of the high designer fashion.

"Debatable," Crow argued. "I can think of a number of times when someone or something didn't want to be found, yet I still found it, but that's beside the point. You're saying we can't find Ada because she is too good at hiding, and I'm inclined to agree, which is why I suggest we leave her to her own devices. She can't do anything to Tricell at this point, since she doesn't know we've taken shelter with them. At the same time, we can't commit to a world-wide man hunt for her."

"Also debatable," Wesker countered with a grin. "You, above all people in the organization, valued security and secrecy above all else. Ada has already proven her capabilities in her last attack. Whether you care to admit it or not, she _is_ looking for us, and she wants blood. Out of all the threats we face, she is the most dangerous, because she knows firsthand our resources and capabilities as individuals. Everyone else feels safety through ignorance."

"Well, as you so kindly put, she doesn't want to be found," Excella said. She sneered at him and leaned forward slightly, hands on her hips. It was one of her most condescending poses, and she was directing it at Wesker. "Are you suggesting we just let her continue terrorizing _my_ company?"

Wesker turned to her with that perpetual grin, completely unfazed. Combined with his sunglasses, it was an unreadable face, like he knew everything there was to know, including the knife about to plunge into your back. It dared you to turn around and look, but if you did, _he_ might just be the one to stab you.

"Not at all. In fact, I supported your decision to eliminate Ada. Your methodology would have been one I considered, had I not known what I know about her. And may I make a correction, Miss Gionne? Tricell isn't your company yet."

"Oh, well thank you for the timely advice," she replied sarcastically with narrowed eyes. "I'm sure my accountants don't mind having to hide enormous amounts of money in the company payroll to fund private mercenaries."

"Then perhaps you would like some more advice, seeing as how your first attempt was unsuccessful?" Wesker asked mildly.

Excella's eyes widened as she swelled with anger. Crow bit his lower lip, bemused with Wesker's audacity. His expression hadn't changed, as if he hadn't infuriated one of the most powerful women in the world. Despite the cool exterior, he knew enough of his partner to know he had somewhat of a problem with grudges. Retaliating tit for tat, no matter how small, was just a way of keeping the karmic wheel in balance…

…and a way to keep Excella in her place. Oddly enough, they had gotten along just fine, and this spat was unusual.

_Probably brought on by her own frustration and temper. Definitely not something the board of directors would like to see run the company._

Amazingly, Excella exhaled hard and shot a glare to the side. "I'm listening," she spat in a very reluctant submission.

"Tell me, Miss Gionne, how do you think Ada Wong operates?" Wesker asked patiently.

Excella considered her thoughts for a moment. "She works alone. She has resources, but after being cut from you, she has less. I gathered as much from the files you gave me."

"Yes," Wesker said with a nod. "However, I wouldn't deprive her of credit: she is very skilled in what she does, which makes her the problem that she is. She doesn't know who to attack, but whoever she does pays a very hefty price, one we've paid already. If it wasn't for Irving's unique ability to slip away at the last moment, I daresay we would have a problem."

"So she needs to be eliminated," she said, folding her arms impatiently. "We have already established this, and you know I don't like to be lead around, Albert. Now what are you implying?"

"She can't continuously attack every corporation on the globe by herself. She will try to gather information to strike precisely, which gives us a little time. Instead of trying to find Ada directly, find something she will go to that can easily be found," Wesker said. "Something that can be watched to wait for her presence, because she will need it to find us."

Perplexed at such an odd suggestion, Crow's brow furrowed. It wasn't unlike Wesker to be a little cryptic when he talked, and the way he phrased it, it sounded like he had things already planned out. What would Ada be looking for that would lead her to them? The entirety of the organizations database was in a location known only to the two of them. There wasn't anything else she could deliberately seek out.

Then it hit him.

"The American government," he realized, then grinned at his partner's cunning. "Leon Kennedy."

"Exactly. Ada has neither the resources nor the manpower to fight on her own. Yes, she can sabotage and slow us down, but eliminate us altogether? I think not. The American government wants her as much as we do, but she has a voice for herself in their ranks. Our last attack proved just how dire their situation is, and I think that very shortly they will hear from Ada."

"And what then?" Excella asked. "We've already attacked the Americans. If Tricell continues to push into their boundaries, they may suspect something.

"I agree, which is why you must be discreet. Otherwise, if she reaches the government first, everything she knows they will know, and instead of dealing with a single rogue agent, we will face an entire nation with far greater resources."

"As clever as that sounds, Albert," Crow said dismissively, "Why exactly would she voluntarily surrender herself to the Americans? In addition, why wouldn't she have tried to strike that kind of deal when they captured her in Prague? She would have had a better bargaining position then. Now, they'll likely just lock her up after the ruckus she caused on their home turf."

Wesker shrugged. "It was simple. Ada didn't know whether to continue to trust you or not. Her mind was made up about me, but until you sent her to eliminate Donovan, she held some shred of loyalty to you. By the time she realized we were both trying to kill her, the government was past negotiations."

All three of them fell silent for a minute, weighing the options that Wesker put out for them. Crow hated to admit it, but Ada was more of problem then he cared to admit. If only there was a way to sway her back to reason. Until that time, however, she was on her own, but he was more than confident in her ability to survive. In fact, the upcoming game of cat and mouse intrigued him.

"Well, Miss Gionne?" Wesker asked. "Crow and I are your humble guests in Tricell. What you wish to do with your funds is your choice, though I will admit that a task like this will be very expensive. We may have a few ideas for you as well, since the organization was formed for this sort of task."

Excella _hmphed_. "A small price to pay for an assurance of power, wouldn't you agree?" She considered Wesker for a moment…for _too_ long a moment, in Crow's taste. "I suppose I owe you thanks, Albert. I never dreamed your mind could work in such surprising ways."

"I'm a very surprising person, Miss Gionne," was all Wesker replied.

Crow cleared his throat impatiently before the dialogue could encroach further into his territory. "Then I guess it's settled. We will lend our support in tailing the US government. Wesker and I can supply contacts, information, anything you desire."

At that moment, Excella's phone chirped on the lab table. She answered it with an irritated sigh. "Yes? Ugh, must you incessantly call me, Ricardo? What is it this time?"

She paced off with the phone glued to her ear. On the other end, Ricardo received a watered down punishment the security officer did. The call was more of an inconvenience than anything else, but Crow was beginning to get the distinction that she just enjoyed pushing him around. When her silence stretched for longer than usual, he glanced over to her. She was listening intently.

"I will contact you shortly," she said into it as she turned, then glanced to _Wesker_. "I will bring him with me." She snapped the phone close then once again looked at Wesker, thinking deeply. "Ricardo wishes to see me, Albert, and he asked that you accompany me as well…would you care to explain why?"

Wesker's face didn't change expression, but his silence lingered for a second longer than usual. "I'm afraid I have no reason, Miss Gionne, unless Irving supplied one."

"Then I suppose we will have to hear his reason when we meet him." She turned to Crow. "If you don't mind, darling, I wish to take care of this matter quickly, as it may hold quite a bit of significance to our plans."

"And would you care to fill me in as to what that call was about?" he asked casually.

She smiled, a little coldly for his taste. "Not just yet."

_What a tease._

"Very well," sighed Crow. "In the meantime, I will start gathering my contacts and resources for your staff. I can assure you, if Albert's plan works, it will be the end of your worries of Ada Wong."

"I can't wait," she replied, then leaned into him and pecked his cheeks. That greeting and farewell always set his blood boiling to have her that close and lay her lips on him. "Ciao, darling."

Excella left with Wesker following leisurely after her. Now alone in the lab, Crow felt like something of a third wheel. But Wesker was always business before pleasure. He would have her back sooner than later, and he would find out what this cryptic development from Irving was. It was unlike Excella to play something so close to the chest, and the fact that Wesker had been requested was even stranger.

_Whatever it is, I think things are going to get very interesting._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Leon gulped a mouthful of coffee, wincing at how bad it tasted. He glanced over to Hunnigan, working dutifully at her desk and drinking her own cup. She caught his look, and for a minute just stared back, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, the look quickly turned irritated when she recognized the accusatory stare. She deliberately took another drink while staring him down, as if to dare him to say it out loud, but he backed down, returning to the demanding task of continuing to drink the horrible brew.

_Why is it that she's the first one to make it to the coffee maker each morning?_

It was probably because he never knew Ingrid Hunnigan to sleep. He'd seen her run down and tired, with plenty of morning hair and circles under her eyes, but even after all that, she never dozed at her desk or in the car between meetings. She was always at a desk when he left for the evening, and she was always there when he returned in the morning.

…along with bad coffee already made. He'd thought by now she would have a knack for how to make it.

It had been a few days since the attack, and the GSA and the Secret Service hadn't budged from New York. Standard procedure would have had them hustle Graham back to the White House, back on home turf and surrounded by plenty of security. However, Fischer wasn't comfortable with having the President in transit for even the relatively short distance back to DC, so as a result, most of the Secret Service and the remainder of the GSA came to New York while another conference was held at the UN Headquarters.

While Graham was busy trying to hold the rest of the world together after the attack on their doorstep, the rest of them were tasked with trying to track down who was behind the attack. Numerous terrorist groups had claimed credit, but the CIA was fairly convinced it wasn't any of the known cells. They had the entire country's information resources running full for the past few days. Leon had been curious to see more of what they did, but being cramped into a tiny substation in a New York high rise filled with civilians quickly grew old.

He just didn't see the point to all the ringing phones and stacks of papers. Hunnigan might excel at stuff like that, but he would much rather be out in the world digging up the hard facts to relay back to them. But orders were orders, and Fischer explicitly wanted him to be immersed in the investigation, so that when they did get something, he'd be ready.

He was just thinking of going to Fischer to request being put back on Ashley's escort duty when his cell phone rang. When he checked the number, it was listed as unknown. Frowning, he flipped it open. "Kennedy."

"_Hello Leon._"

He stiffened as that familiar, sultry purr hit his ear, a voice that he was never sure if he would hear again. A flush ran through his body, like he just broke out in a light sweat, and he swallowed hard.

"Ada."

He didn't mean to utter her name so loudly, but he did before he could help it. Everyone in the room knew her name, and when the people next to him heard it, they fell silent, and then the people next to them, and so on. Hushed whispers had to be exchanged explaining why the entire room eventually fell dead quiet, and every set of eyes trained on him.

"_Surprised to hear from me?_"

Fischer stumbled out from a group of interns, waving his hands at Leon, making a circle motion. He got what he was trying to silently convey: _keep her talking, we're tracing it._

"Uh, yeah," Leon stammered, turning towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the wall, putting a forced casual tone to his voice. "How did you get my number? Only my boss and a few others have it. Secret government agents aren't exactly listed."

"_Oh, I have my ways,_" she replied dreamily, then chuckled. "_But I'll tell you, it wasn't easy. Like you said, you're not listed. I had to call in a few favors._"

"Uh-huh…" was all Leon could reply to that. In all honesty, he _shouldn't_ have been surprised that she could get his number.

All around him, various agents, both GSA and CIA quietly picked up headsets, slipped them on, and patched into the call. He had been through the call tracing process before, and didn't feel indignation at people listening in, but so many other agents and officials listening in, plus his boss, made his nerves rise.

His unique relationship with an enemy wasn't common knowledge in the government. In fact, Hunnigan was the only one who caught on that he always acted a little funny around her. So far, his secret was safe with her, but if Ada said something, Fischer, and the President, would be on him faster than he would like…

…then he realized he wasn't giving Ada enough credit. She knew that he'd be doing his job in trying to track her, so she knew people would be listening in, and even though she was cunning, some things were taboo. Even for her.

"So, should I be worried about having to change my number?" he asked, putting on a neutral face. "I'm not big fan of telemarketers."

"_Hm, don't worry, I was discreet. The people I acquired it from aren't interested in harassing government agents. Only…watching them._"

_How comforting,_ he though bitterly. He caught Hunnigan's eye, and she made that same circular motion with her hand that Fischer did, but looked pleased nonetheless, dare he say a little cocky. _Keep her talking, looking good, _it said.

"So, are you going to tell me why you called?" he asked, pacing to the window.

"_What's the harm in catching up first?_" she asked. The tease in her voice sounded entirely innocent, like she was splayed out on a couch somewhere, twirling a phone cord with her fingers. Ada's perfection went beyond her looks; even her voice was auditory sex. "_How are things?_"

"They're fine," he replied tightly, with a hint of sarcasm. "Our country was attacked, Graham nearly killed, and everything's been under lock and key for days. Funny thing is, I can think of ways to be worse off."

"_It's been all over the news. I'm sure one of the reasons why he's still alive is because you performed admirably._"

Probably true, but he wasn't about to bloat that fact in front of his boss, Hunnigan, and an entire room of CIA agents, and especially not to Ada Wong herself, when he had help with the entire situation. It was a compliment, one he would take from her humbly.

"_So, seeing anybody?_"

"Ah, excuse me?" he asked, not entirely sure if he had heard her correctly. The cool exterior he had put on crumbled as a red tint rose in his cheeks.

"_I said: are you seeing anybody? You know, a lucky girl to take some of that stress off?_ _Don't tell me it's the President's daughter…you never struck me as interested in blondes._"

He saw Fischer shake his head in amazement out of the periphery of his vision. "Funny, Ada. I don't think Graham would take it too lightly if I moved in on his daughter while keeping her safe."

Besides, he went for tall and Asian.

"_I thought as much,_" she sighed, as if being deprived some juicy gossip."_What about that Redfield girl? You two would be a good match._ _Or maybe that brunette with the glasses that always follows you around?_"

There was a vey distinct stutter in the sound of Hunnigan's computer strokes, and when he turned to glance at her, she was beet red, and focused intently on her computer. He heard a few snickers from the corner of the room, and somehow managed to keep the blush from increasing in his cheeks. In truth, he'd made a few passes at Hunnigan, but it was usually just to annoy her more than anything.

"I don't think I'm her type," he said flatly, swearing he heard another stutter in the keyboard clatter. "Don't tell me the only reason you called was to talk about my sex life."

"_Of course not. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that you couldn't trace my call, so I thought why not let you figure it out for yourself?_"

Almost on cue, Hunnigan hit her keyboard, and then threw up her hands in frustration, afterwards rubbing her eyes tiredly. Fischer shot her a questioning look, as did Leon.

"Basically, I can narrow it down to the continent of North America," she said with a scowl, then leaned back in her chair and fumed. "I don't know how she's doing it, but we're not getting anything."

Leon should have known better that Ada wouldn't let herself be pinged with a simple phone trace. If that had been the case, they would have captured her long ago. She called them, which meant they played by her rules.

"Alright, you've made your point," he said, annoyed. "Now would you mind telling me what you want?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a minute, he thought she had hung up on him. _What a great crank call_. But her purr returned. "_I have information._"

He matched her pause, daring to hope for the best. "…about Wesker?"

"_Not exactly, at least, not directly. I don't know what to make of it, but I'm sure you and the rest of the world would like to get your hands on it._"

"Well, what is it?" He paced back and forth, a little irritated with her typical dance around the truth. At the same time, she sounded uncertain. She wasn't just playing keep away; she wasn't sure if this move was in her best interests. Coming from Ada, that was a surprise.

"_I can't tell you over the phone, not with what happened last time._"

"The GSA is clean. Bryce was the only insider he had."

Ada laughed bitterly. "_I'd like to believe you, but I can't trust your judgment. Don't take it personally._"

She had a point, and he hadn't been truthful about the GSA being mole-free. The truth was that their lengthy investigation turned up squat. Nothing suspicious or malicious on any of the files or history of the agents or staff, which had been the case before a decorated agent, Bryce Andres, turned out to be a sleeper agent for Wesker. For all he knew, there could be another one standing in the room, listening in to the call, and they wouldn't know any better.

"I guess I can see your angle," he admitted in defeat. "So how exactly are we supposed to do this?"

She snickered like a schoolgirl at a dirty joke. "_Never thought I'd hear those words out of your mouth, Leon. I want to meet._"

"You want to meet?" he repeated dubiously.

"_I want to meet. Face to face. You and me. Alone. In person. No other agents, no wires, no recorders or cameras._"

"Why just me?" he asked, though he knew the answer.

"_Because you're the only one I can trust. I'm just playing the cards that I have. I have information that we can both benefit from, but I can't do it alone._"

"Never thought _I'd_ hear _you_ say that," he smirked.

"_Touché,_" she returned dryly.

If there was any doubt that Ada had defected, it was now gone. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. Wesker tried to assassinate her inside their own headquarters, which should have been proof enough, but with their organization, it was impossible to tell what was the truth, and what was just an elaborate show to make you think it was the truth. Maybe this was her attempt to try and infiltrate the GSA directly. Maybe she was the one who was ultimately trying to kill Graham.

Still, he couldn't see her using him like that. Ada played the opposite side of the fence, but between them, some things were taboo. Wesker or not, she wouldn't play their relationship like that. That was something he could believe in steadfastly believe in.

Leon realized that his silence stretched longer than he intended. Fischer, Hunnigan, and most of the room were still watching him intently. He caught Fischer's eye, and he nodded. That was the only permission he needed.

He swallowed and turned back towards the window. "Okay, where did you have in mind? Obviously, you don't want to come down to our HQ."

"_Atlantic City. There's a nightclub called Providence. Meet me there, _alone_, tomorrow night, eleven pm sharp. We can talk things over and make an arrangement. Sound good?_"

Not really.

He hesitated before speaking. "Alright."

"_Oh, and Leon?_"

"Yeah?"

"_Tell your brunette friend that she'd look better in teal. Black really clashes with brown._"

The line went dead. Leon turned, confused, and looked at Hunnigan. She looked down, at her brown blazer and the black blazer beneath it…

_She can see us!_

He spun back to the window, looking into the jungle of high-rises that surrounded the building, but it was pointless. All he could do was shake his head, partially out of amusement, and partially out of appreciation for her skill and the hope she was still watching. She could have gone the entire conversation revealing that she was in the same city as them, within direct line of sight, but he knew that even if she did, they wouldn't find her.

The room stayed quiet, though he could feel the tension behind him, even when Fischer ordered everyone to get back to work. Most of the people weren't used to the most dangerous woman in world spying on them without them noticing, but he didn't mind.

What _did_ bother him was the fact that he now had a date with her.

* * *

**Author's Note: This scene was inspired from The Bourne Supremacy. For those of you who haven't seen the movie (or read the book) I suggest you do, because it does spy thriller a lot better than me.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Leon had never been a fan of nightlife, which is probably why he got hung up at the door for as long as he did; his nights out usually consisted of a sports bar and a ball game.

The nightclub Providence was built into a casino a relatively short car ride from New York, and with so little time to plan, the meeting Ada came quickly and left him feeling a little unprepared. He wouldn't deny he felt a little isolated too, despite having worked on solo operations before, but at least Hunnigan was usually in his ear, watching from satellite. If nothing else, she could have at least kept him company, but Fischer agreed that it was better to not try and spook Ada while they had the chance. That meant no Hunnigan.

She hadn't said anything about coming unarmed, however.

It wasn't a simple matter of walking through the door, as he quickly found out after waiting in a rather long line that stretched through the casino foyer. When he inquired as to why the meaty bouncer stopped him with an abrupt hand to the chest, the answer almost made him want to laugh.

"Dress code."

"Ah, 'scuse me?" he asked, not sure if he'd heard him correctly.

The bouncer gestured to the line of people waiting. It was odd that he didn't notice it when he'd been standing there. Women were wearing dresses of various lengths, men in nicer clothes. Not shirts and ties and ball gowns, but not exactly ripped shirts and shorts either.

"You're kidding me," he said flatly. He was dressed pretty casual, jeans, a simple black muscle shirt with a black button down over it to hide his sidearm. "You won't let me in because of how I'm dressed?"

The bouncer cocked his head, the universal sign for _beat it_. He wasn't intimidated; the bouncer was thicker, but they were the same height, and Leon was confident in both his strength and fighting prowess. It wouldn't come to fighting, though. Fischer had given him plenty of leeway on this assignment, but he wasn't about to get into a scuffle with hired muscle that would inevitably draw attention to himself.

Leon sighed patiently. "Listen, I really need to get in there. It's kind of important. I'm supposed to meet someone."

"You and everyone else," the bouncer replied, folding his arms. "Rules are rules. That means the dress code is enforced."

He dug into his pocket to pull out his ID. He hated having to pull the "I'm a government agent" routine, especially with the public. It was guaranteed to work, but it usually meant having to wait longer while someone in the red tape discovered he was actually legitimate.

"I'm with the government," he stated, holding the card up that bore his mug shot. "Leon S. Kennedy, Government Security Agency, subset of the FBI. The person I'm meeting pertains to national security."

Fortunately, the bouncer had more sense than Leon gave him credit for. He peered at the ID, then back to him. "Something going on here that we should know about?"

"No, not that you need to know about," he said, putting the card away. He didn't want to poke at security anymore than he had to, and now that he had some leverage, he had to play the part. "Like I said, it pertains to national security."

Despite his willingness to accept the ID, the bouncer still seemed reluctant to let him enter. Maybe he was thinking it was an elaborate show to weasel his way into the club.

He rolled his eyes. "You can either let me in, or go through the hassle of confirming my identity, but I'm not leaving. Give me twenty minutes, tops. If I'm not back by then, you can come throw me out. Sound fair?"

The bouncer paused, and then stepped to the side. "Fine. Twenty minutes."

"Thanks."

Twenty minutes would be long enough to accomplish whatever Ada had in mind. If she went this far to contacting them, he doubted she'd pass information in a public place and draw it out. It would be quick and discreet. Probably.

He moved through the darkened foyer of the club and immediately remembered why he never liked nightclubs. The dim lighting gave way into the main club, and it was packed. The dance floor comprised a majority of the floor space, bordered by not one, but two DJ booths. There was a bar on the far end, closer to a line of booths and a door that presumably led to private rooms. The floor was crowded with close to a hundred dancing civilians, with more standing in the periphery or lounges, sitting in various chairs and enjoying drinks.

The crowd would have been bad enough, but then factor in that the darkness spread through the entire club, lit only by strobes, flashing neon lights, lasers, and LCD screens. His eyes wouldn't adjust to the settings; the lights kept his eyes refocusing constantly, and the throbbing bass coming from the speakers reverberated into his core, disorienting him in conjunction with over-stimulating lights. Any longer than twenty minutes was going to give him a headache.

Even if he had worn a wire, the music would have overpowered everything. She was covering her tracks, being extra thorough.

The crowd seemed to move with the music, following the beat while a recorded voice belted nonsensical lyrics.

_Your life, euphoric_

_I've waited for so long_

_I'm crashing_

_Sweet foam in these eyes_

_Like a six ton mega bomb_

_Your heart, platonic_

_I've waited until this time_

_The force, erratic_

_Like a deuce from a laser storm_

_Your spite, turns on me_

_Like a cloud cries in the rain_

_Your karma, it's solid_

_You got a wonder, it's all your own…_

Somewhere in the room, Ada was waiting, only she hadn't specified how they were going to meet. He checked his watch; an hour before midnight, right on time, then scanned the crowd. Other than determining sex, recognizing the faces of the people was impossible in the extreme opposites of light and dark.

_Don't find her. She'll find you, just be ready when she does. If it wasn't for Ada, this would be a trap._

He decided to make for the bar. That way, he'd be out of the grinding crowd and a little more noticeable. The way the club was set up, however, the dance floor stood between him and his intended destination with no other way around. Nevertheless, he clenched his teeth and began to push through, his excuse me's lost over the music. The people really didn't seem to notice him or even care, which made pushing through them harder and his progress slow. Everything he touched was sweaty, scented, and moving.

He was just passing the middle of the floor when he felt arms around his waist and the distinctive feeling of a body pressing up against him, then warm breath against his neck. He stiffened at the suddenness of it.

"Hey handsome, wanna dance?"

_So much for being ready._

"Sorry, I'm not much of a dancer." He had to shout over the music, despite the fact she had barely whispered in his ear.

Ada laughed. "Never know until you try. Just try moving your hips."

He could feel her moving behind him, her own hips pressed against his and matching the tempo of the music beat for beat. The room was stifling from being packed in a windowless, smoky room filled with hundreds of moving, sweating bodies, and he had already started to sweat himself. The smooth movement of her hips was intoxicating, and her hands were dangerously low, resting just below the buckle of his belt.

That incredible urge to just _lose himself_ swelled up fast, but he pressed it back down. He knew who he was dealing with.

"I'll take a rain check." He gripped her wrists just enough to loosen her teasing hold, then turned to face her.

Behind him, she was limited to his imagination, which concerning Ada Wong was substantial, but something that never got the better of him. Actually seeing her was an entirely different experience, and, over the years, like looking through a spectrum. He had seen the cool and professional side of her in Raccoon City. In Spain, she was nothing but passion and curves. What he saw now was her wild side.

Gone was the strict professional cocktail dress or the long elegant gown he'd seen her in last. Instead, she wore a short, slinky red halter dress that looked right at home in the club and made every other woman appear overdressed. He couldn't help his glance to the keyhole front or notice the fact that it stopped mid-thigh. The lights glazed off the fabric and her skin, and the shine told him that she never settled for anything less than silk. It was hard to tell what was cloth and what was skin.

The sexy attire was only matched by that confident grin. For a minute, all he could do was stare, but he was entirely grateful she kept a little distance between the two of them, even though her hands were still clasped around his waist, anchored at the small of his back.

"Miss me?" she teased.

_You know it._ "Not really," he lied. "You wanted to talk?"

She gave him a hurt, playful little pout, then smiled and unhooked her arms from his waist and led him through the crowd. He probably imagined it, but she seemed to have a much easier time than he did. Once they were out of the seething mass of flesh and sweat, she took him to one of the booths near the bar and sat down. Grateful to be out of the people in cooler air, he slid in across from her. Here, her radiance was a little less, out of the violent strobes and motion, but she was still beautiful. Even in the dark settings he could see her lipstick, eye shadow, and the long gold earrings that dangled from her ears.

A waiter came by, asking if they wanted anything to drink. Ada ordered a martini, but Leon opted for nothing despite the fact he could go for water. The booth was away from the speakers; his voice would hold out for a little longer, but he would still have to talk loudly to be heard.

"So, where do we start?" she asked conversationally.

"Well, as I recall, the last time you and I were this close you ran away, leaving me with a bullet in the gut after I saved your life," he said. "Why don't we start with that?"

The comment stung, he could see it on her features as she looked away. It came out a little colder than he intended, but she needed to know exactly where they stood. You don't just forget the past.

"Sorry," she apologized. It was hard to tell, but she looked morose. When she did look back, the confidence had returned. "Look at it from my perspective. Did you really expect me to just sit there and let the GSA take me in?"

Leon shrugged. "Could have. You had been cooperating. I'd even go so far as to say that Fischer would have cut you some slack."

"So I was supposed to sit in lockup while another assassin got ready to stick a knife in me?"

Leon glared at the implication that the GSA was riddled with moles. Finding out it had been true was bad enough, but there was no way Wesker could have had more than one agent in an organization that closely tied to the President. That thinking at least helped him sleep at night.

"You seemed to disappear rather conveniently afterwards," he remarked. "Did you get caught on purpose and have someone waiting to pick you up?"

Ada laughed. Her drink arrived, and the waiter left, leaving them to the conversation after she took a sip. "I just happened to meet the right people at the right time."

"And they would be?" He expected a lie, or the question to remain unanswered.

"It was S," she answered right away. "Wesker went to them after Spain, but they found out he was going to betray them, so he bailed. When I followed up with my own investigation, the CEO took a liking to me. Ultimately, they weren't the players we originally thought they were...you know the rest."

It had been all over the news a while back. S couldn't take the heat being thrown on by the Global Pharmaceutics Consortium, and the company tanked. What wasn't released to the public was evidence that they were working on their own B.O.W program, though it was still in its infancy. It sounded like it was going to be another Umbrella the way they had been progressing, so it was fortunate they went bankrupt.

"So S knew about Wesker, but they're all finished now, and I'm assuming what they knew, you know?" he clarified, and Ada nodded. "It sounds like the trail would stop there. What else did you find?"

"Wesker and Crow were the only ones who had access to Umbrella's research after Raccoon City. That means they were the ones who were distributing it on the black market, or at least the ones who started the B.O.W trade."

Crow. Ada had mentioned that name before. She told him that he was Wesker's partner in this, and the one who used to run the organization. The GSA didn't have anything on him, which was unusual, and tipped the scales when anything concerning Wesker came up. They needed to know if there was another player involved.

"Just who is Crow?" he asked. "He was your boss, right?"

"From what I gather. I always had reason to believe the organization was something of a democracy, but regardless of how they operated, he had the final say in everything."

"Ever meet him in person?"

Ada smirked like she was proud. "Only once or twice, which is more than any of the other agents could say. We usually didn't see his face, but he seemed especially drawn to me." She scoffed and took a drink of her martini. "He's a pompous British asshole, who also happens to be a handsome lecher. But a face doesn't get us anywhere without an identity. Both him and Wesker are too good at hiding."

"But you were trying to find them, weren't you? I can't see you just walking away from the organization, especially if the two of them were trying to kill you."

Ada nodded. "I was tracking different weapons dealers that were known to be traffickers of viral weapons or B.O.W. I figured if I managed to catch one, they would be willing to part with who was supplying them, and hopefully, it would be Wesker and Crow. I managed to catch up with one, Ricardo Irving, but he slipped away. Still managed to get some information before he did."

She took yet another drink. Leon waited patiently for her to continue. He sensed movement under the table, and tried to keep his mind off imagining those long legs crossing. She was building to some kind of punch line by retelling the whole story. Not that he complained; every little bit of information on her actions was probably useful. He'd heard of Irving before, a prominent arms dealer, but they might be able to link him to Wesker now.

"It led me to a bank in Istanbul, and who do you think had been paying Irving a lot of money?" she finished with a smile.

Her silence stretched, and he realized she was waiting for a guess. It was stupid, because he obviously didn't know, but he had to humor her nonetheless. "Whoever it is, I take it it's the reason you wanted to meet?"

"The primogen of evil himself, Ozwell Spencer."

His heart skipped a beat at the drop of that name, daring to hope that the punchline she told him was actually true. Ada had found a link to the bioterror network to the founder of Umbrella, who he was sure had long since disappeared.

"You're kidding," he said for the second time that night.

"Nope," she said smugly. "And want to know more? I may have a location."

The second bit of news was just as shocking as the first. She was sitting on that kind of information?

"Okay," he said slowly, carefully trying to organize his thoughts. Things had been going too well for him to get all giddy. "Let's say you're telling the truth, and you know that Spencer has a hand in this, and_ maybe_ where he is. How did you find him, and why come to us?"

"I got a history of records. I don't know if it's recent or not, but I was able to narrow it down to a few potential places. As far as going to you…"Ada's jaw shifted, as if she was weighing her next words. "…it's because I can't do it alone."

This time, it was Leon's turn to laugh. "Coming from you, that's very surprising to hear."

"Well, what am I supposed to do alone?" she replied impatiently. "Spencer is the reason why all of this started. He formed Umbrella. As old as he is, he's still more dangerous than people give him credit for with the knowledge and influence he can pull together. We have the best chance of getting to him if we work together."

"That's assuming what you and I want is the same thing," he countered, then leaned back in the booth. He felt strangely elevated from the fact that she had to turn the tables on herself. She could play the spy mystique all she wanted, but this was the real reason why she contacted them. _Ada Wong needed help_. If this kept up, maybe he could get her to jump through a hoop.

"We do," she assured him. "Spencer built Wesker into the person that he is. Both of us, for one reason or another, want Wesker to pay for what he's done. He's our best bet at finding him. That should be enough for the government."

The offer was very enticing, but that's what she was all about. The red dress, the information, it all made his mouth water. There had to be some angle that he wasn't seeing, something between the lines… he needed to think clearly, and think just as hard as she would.

"Awfully generous of you to give up his location for free," he said casually. "I assume there's something you want? Asylum? Information?"

"I don't want the GSA to do anything…concerning me, that is. I'm helping you, you're helping me. Tit for tat. I'm not working for Wesker anymore, so you have no reason to track me."

It wasn't up for him to decide, but he would figure his superiors wouldn't be so keen on letting Ada walk away. "You're one of the most dangerous people in the world. You have ties to Umbrella, and you've worked for that secret organization that is ultimately responsible for the distribution of B.O.W. The government isn't just going to let you walk so you can latch on to the next bidder and cause the next cataclysm."

"I don't work for people, Leon," she said in irritation, like this was something they had gone over before. "I work for myself. The organization was just a means to my own ends. I'm not interested in toppling governments or spreading B.O.W. I just have to sometimes play the game to get out of it. If a bullet I shoot levels a building years later, I'm fine with that. You have my offer, so what's it going to be?"

"I can't make a decision for the entire government," he told her. "If you want to bargain, you'll have to go to my boss or the President. I assume that's going to be a problem?"

"That's something we'll have to work around, yes, but that's not the problem," she said, then tipped her glass back and drained the contents.

"Oh yeah, and what is the problem?"

She looked at him, and then he realized she was looking past him, over his shoulder. "The problem is that you were followed."

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**Author's Note: The song lyrics are not mine. They're from a song called Piledriver. It's a little obscure, but I believe it's by a group called Amoeba Assassin.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

There were three of them, and they had just entered the club. It wasn't hard to spot them out: three men, dressed in civilian clothes that paused at the entrance, then fanned out to deliberately scan the room. That was how Ada had spotted Leon; it wasn't hard to see someone who looked out of place in a nightclub. There was something about them that just didn't belong.

_Only three in here, but they wouldn't all come in without backup waiting outside for us to slip out._

As soon as she said he was tailed, Leon automatically turned to look. "Don't look!" she chided with a hiss, grabbing him by the collar to point his eyes back to her. He had his back to them, so she shrank into the booth, leaning forward to try and hide behind his frame.

The only problem was that they nearly knocked heads when she leaned in. For a brief instant, she took her eyes off the entrance and looked into his, then towards his lips. A flutter ran down her spine. All she would have to do was tilt her head and lean in a little further…then she realized she still held a fistful of his collar and let go, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Sorry. There are three of them," she told him, glancing back to the entrance, carefully leaning her cheek on her palm to try and mask her visage. "Did you tell the bouncer you were with the government?"

Leon nodded. "Yeah. Said I was under-dressed."

"Well, you could stand to be a little classier," she said distractedly. "They probably said they were with you. He wouldn't know the difference."

In fact, it might have been easier for them. Depending what type of story Leon told the bouncer, those three might have said they were there to help him, or that something was going down. They might even have police with them, which would complicate things even more if they said the two of them were some kind of dangerous fugitives posing as law enforcement.

_Not likely though. They wouldn't drag law enforcement into a hit, especially for their first attempt._

She cocked her head at him. "You _are_ armed, right?"

He gave her an irritated look. "After I was asked to meet with you privately? Of course."

_Good_. Leon could hold his own in a fight, and that meant she wouldn't need to look out for him if the bullets started flying. Her own weapon was a comforting weight that had long since warmed against the skin high on the inside of her thigh, despite the chafing it caused.

"They're going to notice us if we try to leave together," she said. "We'll have a better chance if we leave at different times. First you'll go, and then–"

"Oh, I don't think so," Leon snorted "I didn't go this long just to have you vanish again so you can contact us at your convenience."

Her temper flared, and her eyebrows furrowed in irritation. "Leon, this isn't the time–"

"From what you told me, Spencer is going to know sooner or later that you got into his information, which means we have to act fast before he disappears again," he interrupted quickly. "You're leaving here with me, and then you're going to give me his location before that happens."

She glanced over his shoulder again. The three men were moving again, slowly panning to the outside of the club and trying to look inconspicuous. It wasn't easy for them, dressed in jeans and jackets amongst exotic women and dancers. If the two of them continued to sit in one place, they would be discovered, and she doubted their three tails had qualms about making a scene.

He was right. She didn't have time to sit there and argue with him, lose the tails, and then meet again through secure means. The clock was ticking, and every second increased the chance of Spencer, and thus Wesker and Crow, getting away.

"Alright," she said. "But we're going to need to move quickly."

"I'm parked closer to the back of the casino," he indicated with a flick of his eyes to the door behind them. "We can slip out now."

She shook her head, then grimaced. "They're going to be watching the exits from outside. They wouldn't just send three people to let us slip out the back. Plus, I didn't make a reservation back there, so we won't be able to get in right away. The three of them will notice if we muscle past the bouncer."

This wasn't going to end well.

"…the dance floor," she realized. "We have to blend in. Otherwise, we're exposed just sitting here."

Once in the sea of people, she guided him closer to the center of the floor. "Try to look like you're having fun," she yelled in his ear as the music overpowered the air around them. "And keep your head down!"

At least she was able to indulge in the proximity of their bodies as she wrapped her arms around his waist again. His build felt comforting, even if it brought that chewing sense of longing in her stomach, and it had been fun to tease him when they met.

Leon's movements felt stocky and clumsy next to her. He wasn't much of a dancer, and she would like nothing more than the time to show him how, but she would have to settle for a crash course. She took his hands by the wrists and hooked them around her own waist so that he drew her closer to his body. Immediately, she felt the flush in her cheeks when he actually tightened his hold and the heat from his body flowed into hers.

_He's not some wallflower on his first date. Give him some credit; he knows how to handle a woman._

The music, lights, and motion was disorienting, but she quickly picked out the three tails again. Two of them were still scanning the perimeter, but one was beginning to head to the dance floor. She bit the inside of her cheek when he began to nudge into the crowd.

"Shit," she swore under her breath, too low for Leon to hear. They were being too thorough, and now they had just put a crowd of civilians into the line of fire. She doubted the three men would mind if they hit a few if it guaranteed her death.

"Turn with me," she told Leon tersely. "One's coming up on the floor. Get your back to him."

He complied, looking as tense as she felt. She was more or less hidden in front of him, but she couldn't see well over his shoulder, and she needed to continue to track their movements for the both of them. She took a deep breath, then placed her cheek onto his shoulder, as if to croon into his neck. This allowed her to just glance over his shoulder. The action fit well with the rest of the crowd; the music was slow and sensuous, and more than a few couples were getting a little cozy.

"Easy, tiger," she said when she felt him tense from her breath on his neck, but she wasn't sure if it would be better directed at her. She suddenly felt awkward, uncertain. It wasn't easy to try and _not_ be turned on from almost grinding on him. With three assassins circling them, a pleasurable sense of adrenaline washed through her nerve endings.

The two men on the outside were still hanging back, but the third had vanished from the crowd. She scanned the sea of faces and bodies, but the plain-clothed man was nowhere in sight.

"Lost one of them," she said into his ear. Then she felt Leon tense.

He was right next to them. The man reached inside his jacket, but the crowd jostled him, slowing his movement. Ada pressed herself against Leon, lifted her leg, and reached to her holster. She was faster, more fluid, and got the muzzle of her Beretta up just as she saw the butt of his handgun.

The shot was almost point-blank. A loud _bang_ briefly dwarfed the music, and the man went down hard. Unfortunately, the shot was so close the bullet went right through him. A woman behind him fell with a cry, clutching her stomach. It stung at her conscious, but there was no time to think about it.

The dance floor, and then the entire club descended into pandemonium after the single report. People screamed and stampeded away from her when they saw the gun, tripping and flailing. The force tore Leon away from her, twisting and twirling her in all directions. Then more shots sounded, and she briefly saw bullet holes speckle the floor around her. A man that clipped her as he ran past jerked and fell as a round penetrated his chest.

Unsure and unable to see where Leon was, Ada shoved between two civilians, sprinting in the opposite direction the shots had come from, then dove over one of the now abandoned DJ booths. Two single shots rang out, followed by a small burst of automatic fire, and the mixing equipment on the booth turned into a shredded mess of electronics. She stuck her gun around the corner and fired back, then leaned out to set up a better shot.

The room had cleared out quickly, leaving only the two of them on the other side of the dance floor, with a few bodies between them. Each had taken cover behind some tables and chairs. She was relieved to see movement to her right: Leon behind the bar, popping up to fire along side her.

The gunmen fired back. She saw two handguns, but one was an automatic, responsible for the rapid chatter. Holes riddled the booth around her, and she realized the decorative wood and electronic lights that covered it offered little protection.

Ada dove out from behind the booth, rolling along the floor and emptied her clip to force them back down, and as soon as they took cover, she was back on her feet, running to the bar. They didn't stay down for long, and the gunfire returned just as she was vaulting the bar. Bottles popped and exploded, running their contents over both her and Leon as she crashed to the floor next to him. Broken glass stung her calf, but she drew her legs up and huddled behind the bar as the bullets drummed harmlessly against the thicker surface.

"We need to get out of here," she said tightly as she ejected her spent clip and replaced it with a new one from the holster. As she released the slide, she habitually tugged the hem of her absurdly short skirt back into place.

"Right with you," Leon replied. "I'm open for ideas."

Gunfire peppered the top of the bar again, but neither of them had leaned out to shoot. Her tactical mind suddenly screamed in alarm. She crouched low and swiftly darted to the edge of the bar.

"Ada!" Leon snapped over the flying bullets, but she ignored him.

There was a subtle gap in the gunfire, and as soon as she heard it, she swept out and collided with one of the shooters just coming up to the bar. One of them had been laying down covering fire while the other came in close to bunker them.

She ducked under his gun arm and pushed, so close she could make out the details of the weapon and the extended clip that fed the bullet-spewing handgun. They turned in an awkward pirouette, and as they did, she stuck her gun out and aimed at the other gunmen at the edge of the dance floor and squeezed off a double tap, both rounds hitting him in the chest.

Ada continued her pivot, bringing the gun around and stuck it into the chest of the shooter, firing once, then twice point-blank into his ribs. When he fell away, she finished him off with a third through the skull.

Leon had popped up to cover her, and as the second shooter went down hard, she focused on the first. He wasn't moving.

"Come on!" she snapped at him, then spun towards the door.

He watched her back as she cleared the door, then moved through. She was used to working alone, but having Leon at her back gave her a sense of security. They had never worked like this before, but as they moved through the halls, she found it almost natural to trade cover with him as they checked the back halls that ran through the VIP suites, then the backstage area. She would clear the first corner, motion him up, and then watch his back to make sure reinforcements didn't surprise them from behind. He'd get the next one, and they'd switch, and within seconds, they were at the door she knew led to the back alley behind the concert.

"You know where you're parked?" she asked as they stacked on either side of the door, guns at the ready.

Leon closed his eyes. "Right at the end of the alley. Half a block, black Jeep."

She nodded back. "On three. One, two, three!"

She flung open the door and swept out, crouching low with her gun raised. Leon followed, aiming over her back. The back alley was clear, and she took point as they jogged towards the street. As soon as they reached the mouth of it, there was a gunshot, and a bullet chipped the brick corner of the building a foot from her face.

"Across the street, by the grey sedan," she said, wincing from the aftershock of the stone pelting her face and shoulder. She pressed her back against the wall. "I'll cover you."

Without waiting for his consent, she leaned out and fired off a few rounds in the direction of the shooters. The gunmen behind the car shrank back as the windshield spiderwebbed, and Leon leaped forward to crouch behind another parked car along the street. He fired out a volley to cover her, and she joined him behind the car before the shooter fired back.

"That way," he said, pointing with his muzzle down the street. She could just make out his car. "Stay low."

Hugging the crowded row of cars that lined the street, they made their way down. With the ample cover, they didn't have to worry about the bullets that harmlessly pelted the vehicles. When they got to his Jeep, she stood up and fired over the hood of the car behind it to cover Leon while he got into the driver's seat. As soon as he was in, she fell back and got into the passenger side. Bullets hammered the side of the car, and Leon swore very loudly as he turned the ignition and floored it.

_I guess I would be pissed if they shot my car, too._

As he pealed down the street, she looked back and ejected her now-empty magazine, replacing it with her third and final one. "Looks like they're following."

The grey sedan had torn out of its parking space, its shot windshield very distinct, and was now quickly gaining on them. Leon grimaced and tightened his hold on the wheel.

"Hold on."

He turned at the next intersection, ignoring a stoplight and nearly causing a pileup as a pickup truck swerved to avoid them. When she looked back, their pursuers had fallen back from having to dodge their own crash, but quickly caught back up. Without warning, they rammed them from behind. They jerked and swerved, but Leon held them steady.

It was a tight fit on a two way city street, and they were already going more than twice the legal speed. The sedan tried to pull up along side them, but Leon quickly swerved, cutting them off. Denying them a clean shot didn't prevent them from firing their weapons, and bullets pinged off the rear hatch as the gunmen inside fired from the windows. One hit the rear windshield, turning it opaque with cracks.

They tore through another intersection, this one favoring them with a green light, but Leon clipped a car making a turn. Ada was shaken in her seat as they slowed and then accelerated. She grabbed the doorframe handle to steady herself as he took another tight turn, then shot a look back through the cracked windshield. The sedan was still on them.

"Make me some room," she said, then cracked her door open.

"What?" Leon yelled, almost swerving as she opened the door fully and leaned out.

Cold air whipped her short bangs wildly as she held herself steady, one hand on the door, the other full of gun. She was poised at an angle over the street, and one slip would send her into the ground, then beneath the wheels of their pursuers. Cars parked along the street blew past only feet from her shoulder and even less from the edge of the open door.

It all happened quickly in a rush of adrenaline. Despite the motion, wind, and giddiness that coursed through her veins, she lined up a shot on the right side of the sedan's windshield, then pulled the trigger again and again. She registered only a few shots hitting their mark when the return fire came. One whizzed past her shoulder, shattering the passenger window and pelting her with glass.

But her last shots did it. One or more rounds must have hit the driver, because the car swerved and suddenly took a hard turn, hitting a parked car and flipping with a shower of sparks. At the same time though, the incoming bullets caused Leon to jerk the wheel, and she nearly toppled out of the car. They went into a skid, and the force pulled her back in, the door slamming shut behind her.

She looked up from her askew position over her seat and dashboard just in time to see they were going to crash.

They glanced off a streetlight, and Leon lost control, ramming into a parked car. Ada flew off her seat and into the dashboard. Spots of light danced in front of her eyes as all of her breath escaped her. Her spine protested with agony as it twisted at a funny angle, and she fell back against the seat, clutching her midsection as the silence set in.

She felt Leon's hand on her shoulder. He was holding the back of his neck, but he had gotten his seatbelt on when they took off. She hadn't. "You okay?"

Her face furrowed, teeth bared, but she glanced out the window instead of meeting his gaze. The gray sedan was further back, crumpled against some cars. There was no movement inside.

"Yeah," she replied, swallowing the pain. "I'm fine. Just get us out of here."

At least the Jeep was still drivable. The front end was almost totaled, but there was no one to report them as they drove off. Soon, they were a few streets away, heading out of the city.

"Well, now what?" she asked after a while, once the pain had subsided minutely.

"Now, we go back to New York, and hook up with the rest of the GSA," he said tensely. "Then you can tell us what you know about Spencer."

"Yeah,_ great_ plan," she said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm or her bitter laugh. The pain in her gut made her wince. "I told you, you were followed. That means you've got another leak. The last thing we should be doing is going back to the GSA."

"You have a better idea?" he asked loudly. She picked up the stress in his voice. "Ada, we almost got gunned down back there! Now you want to jerk us around?"

"That was before I knew you were still compromised," she said back just as loudly. "If we go back to the GSA, I guarantee they'll be waiting for us."

"Jesus Christ," Leon muttered, palming his face.

Silence fell between them, thick enough to cut. The naivety was starting to piss her off, but she could at least see his situation. If he couldn't trust the GSA, then what else was there?

"What if I didn't take you back to the GSA?" he asked wearily as they stopped at a red light. "Some place else, where if we have another insider, they won't think to look, at least right away. Until we can get this shit straightened out."

She eyed him warily. People that had pulled up next to them were staring in shock at the condition of their car. What kind of place did a loyal government agent know of that a rogue spy might take refuge in? "What kind of place did you have in mind?"

"My place," he said. "My apartment isn't too far from here. A few hours away in DC."

She laughed again and stifled another wince, hoping that it was only bruising and not something broken. "You're kidding me. Don't you think that's the first place they'll look?"

"My orders were to meet with you, get the information, and if necessary, bring you in. When those assassins don't report in—if they're dead—or if they say that we got away, anyone who's watching the GSA will be waiting for me to return. They'll probably expect you to have run off again, and that I was wounded or incapacitated." He glanced at her just before the light turned green. "Ada, we just need time to think how to play this out."

She considered what he said as they started moving again. If what he said was right, then it was the best choice. She was exhausted, and skipping town on public transportation would give whoever attacked them a possible trail to follow when they found out she was still alive. The data was on her PDA, which she had in her leg holster. They could get it to the GSA from his place, and she could get moving again. Like he said, they just needed time.

But she was sure he was being watched. She was too careful to let someone have discovered her, let alone out of the blue like that. Sticking close to him would lead them right to her…

_Goddammit, Leon._

Finally, she nodded and leaned back into her seat. She was too tired to bicker with him anymore. "Alright. Your place it is."


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Foreword: Most of this chapter is a rewrite of a roleplay done by me and notanotherfanficauthor on Project Moirae. A lot of the credit goes to her, especially for a lot of Leon's dialogue and actions, and used with her permission. Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 11**

The drive they shared was a long, quiet one. Instead of heading north where the GSA waited in New York, they went south, back towards Washington DC. Leon wasn't entirely sure if that would throw his pursuers for a loop, but he had no choice but to agree with Ada. If someone was tailing him, or at least was monitoring him at the GSA, they would be watching the temporary HQ back in New York, and not his apartment.

Of course, they could just as easily be watching both...

It was the middle of the night when they arrived at his residence. The streets were mostly empty since it was past bar time, and they still had a few hours before the sun came up and rush hour traffic started. Nobody was following them, and the apartment building was almost completely dark.

He pulled into his usual spot at the end of the parking lot beneath the building. He lived in a decent-sized apartment complex just on the edge of the downtown. He didn't like to brag, but it was one of the nicer units in the city. Working for the government certainly paid off, even if he had to tangle with B.O.W and Ashley on a regular basis.

As he exited the car, a foreign sense of paranoia washed over him. The lot was full, the residents of the building still sleeping, but there was too much space he couldn't watch at the same time. If they–whoever they were–were waiting for them, now would be the best time to strike. But he didn't hear anything, nor did he pick up any movement in the shadows that fell from the low fluorescent lights.

Ada slipped out from the passenger side, stooping to replace her weapon to its concealed holster, but as she straightened, she looked just as tense as he felt. They had barely spoken a word the entire ride. He half expected her to be flirty, but she seemed lost in thought, and a little bit on edge on their way in.

_Maybe she's starting to feel the net tightening. If the GSA isn't secure, where else can she turn to?_

Plus, the ride was noisy, filled with wind from the missing rear windshield. He had already gone through the stages of loss for his car. What he was more concerned about was the bullet holes and the front damage raising some questions, or worse, indicating to anyone watching the place that they had gotten away and were hiding there. They hadn't gotten pulled over, but that was just the start.

"Well, let's go," he said finally, like there wasn't anything else to be said. Standing in the open wasn't going to accomplish anything. Once inside his home he could relax a little.

He lived on the top floor on the corner of the building. It was a bigger unit, but unfortunately, his bedroom window looked straight at the adjoining building, which made privacy something of an issue, and would be something he would have to address with Ada eventually.

Once off the elevator, partway down the hall a door opened, and he drew back apprehensively out of reflex, still working on old adrenaline. But it was just Debbie Harris, and elderly woman who lived three rooms down from her. As she turned to lock her door, a leash dangled from her wrist, and she was followed by her tiny Welsh Corgi, which had been the source of more than one noise complaint.

_Taking her dog out for a late-night walk…craaap._

He was hoping he could stash Ada away without anyone seeing her, but Debbie immediately spotted the two of them, slightly grimy and mussed from the club and following fight. He looked alright…but then there was Ada in her brilliant, exotic red dress…

Without warning, Ada leaned into him, her warm weight surprising him. Clinging to his arm, she shot a dreamy smile at the other woman through hazy eyes. Debbie eyed Leon and gave him a disapproving scowl. _Great, she probably thinks I'm bringing home some drunken party girl or a hooker…thanks, Ada._

Debbie brushed past them with the giddy dog, turning her glare to Ada, who ignored it, and took the elevator they just got off. Immediately, she resumed her normal gait, though her hold on his arm seemed to linger for a second longer…but he probably imagined it.

At he door to his apartment, he fished out the key, and with a glance over his shoulder down the hall, drew his sidearm from under his button-up, then turned the key and opened the door. It was the first time he stepped into his own living room with a raised weapon. He flicked the light switch on, and moved further in, with Ada following behind him.

"Thought you said this place was safe," she said quietly, shutting the door as he moved in further.

"It is, but I don't think you'd approve of me getting careless," he replied dryly.

He checked all the rooms and closets, but there was no one, and no sign of forced entry. He breathed in relief, then went back to the living room and found Ada admiring the surroundings casually. For a bachelor pad, it was pretty stylish: a spacious living room, furnished with two couches, a coffee table, and an entertainment system he'd sunk quiet a bit of cash into. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a counter and some cabinets, in essence making it one large room.

"Looks like you've been doing well for yourself," she said with a hint of humor in her voice.

He ignored her look as he drew the curtains shut at the window. "Yeah, well, being a secret government agent pays well, simple as that. Much more than a cop would make." After he was sure they were as closed as they could get, he placed his weapon on the coffee table and ran a hand over his face. Being back home made him remember how tired he really was.

"So…" Ada began, crossing her arms.

"So…" he echoed.

"So," she said again. "You just spent the night at a dance club, barely escaped from gun-wielding assassins, and now have a beautiful woman back in your apartment…" she raised an eyebrow expectantly. "Aren't you even going to offer me a drink?"

"Only got beer," he lied. The liquor cabinet was actually well stocked, but he didn't feel like trying to impress her. His house, his rules. "You'll have to settle for that."

Ada only shrugged. He got out two bottles from the fridge, courteously opening both of them before returning. She sank into one of the sofas, so he settled into the one across from her. When he handed her one of the bottles, he never thought he would see her take such a deep draft, then sigh in relief as hard as she did. For someone who never let her walls down, it was almost shocking to watch her unwind.

"Don't get too comfortable," he said. "We might have to get moving pretty quickly…" _They already trashed my car, may as well assume I can kiss my apartment goodbye too._

She held up her PDA with a smile, as if she had been anticipating the question he didn't ask yet. "It wasn't easy, but I think I managed to narrow Spencer's location to Eastern Europe. Not much on intel for that location, but judging from the finances, it looks to be a high maintenance facility, but nothing pharmaceutical."

"What, like his mansion in Raccoon?" heasked.

"Probably," she agreed. "Or something similar to it. He's from an old, noble family. Could be some kind of castle. There had been plenty of cash flow in and out of it before Raccoon, but now it's almost slowed to a crawl. Unlike some other resources, this is one of the few that is still moving money. When we get the chance, I'll forward all the data to you."

After all of what they had been through that night, it seemed that their business had been concluded. He took another drink of his beer, and so did Ada.

"You said you couldn't do it alone, but why are you so quick to help us?"

"Still don't trust me?" she asked with a smile, though it looked a little sad on her.

"You had every chance to take out Wesker while he was in the organization. But that didn't stop you from working for him; from getting him Las Plagas in Spain. Instead of the government, why not another pharmaceutics company, or a black market agency? I'd like to trust you Ada, but the fact is you're changing sides pretty fast, and it doesn't make sense."

She blinked once. "I told you, I can't do it alone. This was the smartest move I could make."

"Because you got your ass kicked, right? I mean, it was fine for everyone before, but now it's a big issue because for a change, _you're _the one that's in deep shit."

He hadn't intended to sound quite as harsh as he did, but it didn't matter in the end.

"This isn't about me," she replied. Her eyes had narrowed, and a warning look crossed her face.

"Sure sounds like it is," he pressed. "If this was such a big concern for you to begin with, then why didn't you contact me sooner? We have resources, we could have helped take Wesker down when we knew where he was."

"You think that I, or anyone else in the world can predict what happens tomorrow?" she snapped. He was taken aback by the anger in her eyes. "The weather is one thing, but sometimes you don't see the knife coming until it's sticking out of your back."

She tossed back another mouthful of beer, and then spoke again, her tone settling down a little bit. "Petty ideals won't get you anywhere, Leon. The rest of the world isn't interested in playing fair, and most of it doesn't care about what happens to other people. B.O.W is this century's favorite toys; if you want to worry about all the people they'll kill, then I guess it's up to you to save them all."

He caught the challenge in her voice. _Walk away if you don't want my help._ But where Ada Wong was concerned, he couldn't just walk away, and she knew that too. Was she exploiting that flaw, or was it genuine?

_Some things are taboo. Even she wouldn't stoop that low. Not with us. If she could, I would be dead back in Raccoon City._

"Alright, we're game," he said at last. It meant that he conceded, but she was right. "But just so we're clear, if anything indicates that you're changing sides…"

He didn't have to finish the threat to make the point.

"Sure thing, Leon." She smiled wearily at him. "Do I get to spend the night in a cozy cell, or are you just going to handcuff me to the radiator?"

He gave a hollow laugh. "I'd love to, Ada, but I don't think this is the time to be getting kinky. You're taking the bed. I'll take the couch."

She blinked at him, though he didn't pick up at what had her so stunned.

"Leon," she chuckled nervously. "You don't have to do that. I've slept in worse places than a couch. I don't mind."

"No arguments," he said firmly, taking small satisfaction in realizing he was making her squirm. "And if you still want to get kinky, I won't mind having to cuff you to the bed if you disagree."

"I…don't know what to say," she said with resignation, finishing the last of her bottle."

"You could say 'thank you," he offered. "You know, because that's what people tend to say."

That rare embarrassment came back, and he could have sworn she had blushed if it wasn't for the fact that he had only turned on a single light when they came in. But she looked him the eye with a smile. "Thank you, Leon."

"Don't mention it."

He stood up, taking both bottles to put them into the recycling bin. Ada stood to, but as she fully straightened, she suddenly crumpled, one hand going to her side.

"Ow! Dammit…" she muttered.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, dropping the bottles onto the rug in a rush to put a hand on her shoulder. He hated how tender he sounded after how they just spoke. "You okay?"

Immediately, she straightened, and while her face was neutral, he could see a twitch run through her brow. Her breathing sounded labored.

"I'm fine," she said tightly, brushing off his hand. "I just need to lie down."

She was obviously lying. He caught her by the wrist as she tried to brush past, and even though she pulled away, he held her firmly. "We need to get you to a hospital. You got roughed up pretty bad in that crash."

She laughed in reply. "Leon, going to a hospital will make me stick out like a sore thumb, especially if Wesker and Crow are using the pharmaceutics companies. I said I'll be fine."

"You won't be fine if you've got a broken rib or are bleeding internally," he shot back, but her face remained set, defiant. He sighed in exasperation. "Well, if you don't want to go to a hospital, will you at least let _me_ check you out?"

"You know I like it when you check me out," she purred, but the spell was wasted on him. He still didn't let go of her wrist, and she matched his earlier sigh.

"Just to give me peace of mind," he coaxed. "Come on."

The embarrassment returned to her face, only this time he didn't know why she was putting up another wall between them. It was one thing to be strong and independent, but it was another to be strong and stupid. If it was bad enough, she might end up crippling herself.

"Alright, fine," she finally said with an irritated roll of her eyes.

He didn't exactly have all the things he needed in the first aid kit stashed underneath the bathroom sink, but if there was something seriously wrong with her, he would at least be able to make her comfortable until they could get to better treatment. He left her to go retrieve the kit, and then brought it back into the living room where she stood waiting.

As he opened it, she turned away from him, and then reached up to undo the clasp that held the dress around her neck. As it smoothly fell away from her shoulders, he finally realized why she was acting so difficult…almost as if she was shy.

Ada Wong was naked from the waist up.

The folds of her dress had pooled in red folds around her hips. If she didn't hold it against her stomach, it would have completely slithered down her hips and legs. Her other arm lay protectively across her bosom, giving him a clear, unobstructed view of her creamy back without so much as a bra strap in the way. It looked porcelain, nearly perfect, but there were tiny, almost invisible blemishes he could make out. Scars.

The most noticeable one stretched across her right shoulder, right where the bullet had entered in the underground Raccoon City lab. After a hit like that, it would have need surgery, probably reconstruction-

"Well?" She glanced back at him expectantly.

He jerked, avoiding her eyes to modestly stare at the floor and felt like an idiot. "Sorry."

He sat on the edge of the couch where she had been sitting earlier, setting the kit next to him so he could get a closer look. Right away, he could see the afflicted area that she had grabbed in pain. There was a large, ugly bull's-eye of bruising spreading from her midsection. He tentatively reached out and touched it, the red silk folds of her dress brushing against his wrist as the tips of his fingers touched warm skin.

Ada hissed, and he pulled back like her skin was instead red hot. "Sorry," he said again quickly. "Hurts there?"

"Yeah…a little."

He touched the spot again, careful to be a little more gently, and this time, she let out a smaller shudder. The gentle rise and fall of her sides didn't match what he was feeling. Something just felt a little off.

"Might be cracked, or even broken," he diagnosed, then hesitated before moving his hand further up to a creamy patch of skin unblemished skin. This time, she didn't recoil. "What about here?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Well, at least that's something. Looks pretty small." He felt relieved. At least her entire side wasn't caved in. Then again, if she had been hiding a cracked rib the entire ride back, it couldn't have been all that bad. "Probably shouldn't wrap it, but we don't have much of a choice. I've got plenty of painkillers in the bedroom."

It was a little awkward taping her side. The fracture was so low on her ribs that he could just barely run tape from her sternum to her spine, and as he worked, his hands landed dangerously close to the arm protectively over her chest and what lay beneath. It was a standard dressing that he had been trained in, but he suddenly found himself wondering if he was doing it right, or if it was going to do the trick.

Whether she was ticklish, or if there was a draft in his apartment, or maybe from discomfort, Ada shuddered again as he worked. Leon had to swallow hard to suppress his own as the goosebumps on her skin matched his own. Up so close and focused, he caught the scent of perfume, mixed with the equally pleasant smell of her sweat. It was hard to find something negative about anything with her appearance.

"So…why aren't you-" he began.

"-because it shows when I wear this dress," she interrupted. "I didn't think I'd have to take my top off for you tonight, otherwise I might have considered wearing one."

Fair enough. He had dated some girls who did worse things than forgoing a bra. Leon ripped the end of the tape off and planted it against the small of her back. "All done."

She immediately took a step away and turned her back to him, then redid the ties of her dress before turning back and smoothing the silk with her hands. The square of tape was just visible from the spilling back.

"Thanks again," she said stiffly, but he saw that she meant it. "I hope we don't make this a habit."

"If we do, then that means we're in trouble." He felt like he should say something else, but the words escaped him. Instead, he cocked his head towards the hall. "Why don't you go lie down and get some rest?"

She brushed her bangs habitually, but the fatigue was there. Whether it was due to the night they had or if it was recurring, he didn't know. But for once, she didn't argue, and moved to the bedroom. He watched her carefully the entire way. She looked like she wanted to say something too, but she had thanked him, and 'good-night' probably wasn't in her vocabulary.

* * *

By the time five in the morning rolled around, Leon was sick of watching the TV on mute. Another beer had come and gone, and he still wasn't tired. It wasn't that his couch was uncomfortable; it was likely the adrenaline still wearing off, the fact that a very dangerous person was occupying his bed, and that his apartment might end up not being so safe. His sidearm was in easy reach on the coffee table, safety off for just that occasion.

Maybe it was to ease some lingering doubt, or maybe it was nagging curiosity, but he found himself getting up from the couch and walking quietly to his bedroom. If she turned out to be awake, it was going to make the whole thing much more awkward than it already was. But he was going to risk it, with plenty of lame excuses on hand.

The building was built fairly recently and solidly, so the floor didn't creak as his weight fell on it. The door was cracked open, and he gently nudged it open with his bare foot to step into the room. It didn't take much for his eyes to adjust to the darkness; he'd left most of the lights off in the living room.

Vulnerable was not a word he'd thought would describe Ada very well, but it was the only word that could at the moment. She was peacefully asleep between the sheets of his queen-sized bed; completely still save for the gentle rise and fall of her breathing. The curtains were still closed, but a sliver of moonlight slipped through a crack and landed across her face, turning her normally tan skin to a smooth pale. The short, raven black strands of her hair splayed against the featureless pillow in a sleepy black storm.

He hesitated, but stepped further into the room. One foot nudged something cool and downy; her dress in a careless pile of dull, shiny red. One high heel lay on top of it, its sister a few feet away. The thought of invading her privacy again made him want to leave and shut the door, but he saw one of his drawers had been opened. She'd helped herself to one of his shirts for the night.

To get any closer was to poke a sleeping lion, but he soon leaned quietly against the desk next to his bed and folded his arm, watching her sleep. Despite knowing what she was, seeing her in this rare form made him want to protect her, to care for her in any way he could. He hated it at the same time; she had betrayed him, toyed with his feelings, and almost got him killed more than once. The china doll exterior was just a façade.

That didn't stop him from reaching out to gently brush her bangs away from her eyes. She stirred a little, but that was all. She was truly asleep.

_Say what you want about her. She's asleep in your home. That means she trusts you._

With some measure of content, he silently left the room and shut the door again, leaving her to whatever respite she found in sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was late when Ada woke the next morning. She was surprised to see it pushing noon when the digital clock came into focus on the nightstand. She never slept that late voluntarily; if she did, it was usually because someone put her down to stay down, and when she did wake up in those situations, it wasn't in a soft, cozy, warm bed.

Despite sitting up with the intent to get up, she immediately fell back into the sheets. Leon's bed was so ungodly comfortable that sleeping in another hour or two would have been easy. Not only was it warm and comfortable, it felt safe, like a childhood sensation of hiding under the covers. And the scent…she lifted the collar of the gray shirt she pilfered to her nose and breathed deeply. It smelled like Leon: as fresh, clean, and crisp as his ideals. It was in the sheets too, but much more noticeable in his clothes.

As much as she wanted to turn over, however, she kicked back the sheets and comforter and swung her legs out, this time managing to get to her feet. The shirt was long enough that it fell just past her hips. Not the most elegant thing she wore on short notice, but it was comfortable. She hoped Leon wouldn't mind.

On the desk near the door, there was a towel and a washcloth folded neatly for her, sitting near a printer and a closed laptop. Leon must have laid them there earlier while she was still sleeping. The fact that he didn't wake her up in the process was another show of how tired she was, how trained he was, or a combination of both.

She didn't take much time to examine his bedroom the night before, but it wasn't too terribly elaborate to begin with: white wallpaper, a soft carpet beneath her bare feet, a wardrobe, dresser, and a bit of artwork on the wall. Simple, clean, and efficient. The most interesting things she noticed when she bent to pick up the towel.

He had various pictures sitting on his desk, all of them framed plainly. She recognized a group shot of him donning a service medal with Graham and his daughter. _Probably after Spain,_ she thought_._ There were others with him and the president as well, in addition to other dignitaries she didn't recognize, and a small one of the Redfield girl and her brother. It all seemed so professional, with only the smallest hints of anything personal. In a way, it made him seem married to his job, but then again, being a secret government agent probably demanded that.

_What exactly does he do for fun, I wonder?_

She stepped out in the hall, the guilty sensation of prying into personal space beginning to creep into her thoughts. Sounds from the kitchen told her Leon was busy making himself breakfast, so she moved to the bathroom and cranked the shower valve. As the water heated up and began to steam, she stripped off the shirt and gingerly peeled back to the tape on her side with a grimace of pain. The painkillers from the night before were wearing off, and the fracture in her ribs felt like the point of a knife. The bruising was still fresh and ugly, spreading in a black and yellow patch.

She counted herself lucky. That crash could have pitched her right through the windshield and broken her neck, given her a hundred new scars, or how many other unpleasant outcomes.

The heat and steam from the shower was a welcome reprieve on the wound, almost as much as the night's rest. Leon's shower easily trumped the cheap motels she had been jumping to and from for the past months. She took the time to thoroughly wash off the grime and sweat from her body and hair, forgoing the usual pampering she gave herself; Leon didn't have her products, and she considered herself fairly high-maintenance. Instead, she just used some of his shampoo and body wash; it would have to do, even when she realized that his scent would linger on her for longer.

The thought made the longing grow an inch.

Once out of the shower, she toweled off and took another look at the bruising. The makeshift bandaging had helped, and part of her wanted to feel the gentleness of Leon's hands against her skin again…but then there was the other part of her that was ashamed from the awkwardness of it all. So many times she had used her own body as a tool in the game of espionage. The fact that it worked on him without her even trying made her feel guilty.

She knew the first aid kit was stored under the sink, and it wasn't hard to replicate what he did the night before. Another swathe of white medical tape soon covered the patch of bruising on her right side, serving to immobilize her chest cavity just a little bit while her ribs tried to heal.

Not having a brassiere was turning out to be more of a nuisance than she initially thought. Without a set of clothes, the only option was to slip on her dress, which wasn't practical, and it was crusted with a layer of sweat and dust. She sighed and flipped her still damp bangs out of her eyes, then slipped on her panties and the shirt.

_Maybe he'll let me pick up some things. That still doesn't fix the fact that I don't have pants or a bra _now…

Well, she was sure Leon had his share of women over the years, so one walking out of his bathroom in just a shirt shouldn't be a big shock. She hoped.

He was still in the kitchen when she stepped into the living room. The only thing that separated the two rooms was a granite counter top with a few stools next to it. She was barefoot, stepping silently, but he immediately turned when she entered. He gave a small, airy laugh and grinned; she even caught a look of disbelief in his eyes, but it was understandable. The last person he expected to walk into his kitchen with nothing but a shirt and wet, stringy hair was Ada Wong.

"'Morning," she said, stifling a lingering yawn.

"'Morning," he replied, and then turned back to what he was doing. "Found the shirts, I see."

"Yeah." She plucked at the collar. "Sorry, I should have asked first."

Leon shook his head. "Nope. I'm sorry I forgot to mention it. How'd you sleep?"

The conversation was so casual she thought it might kill her. "Fine. Thanks again…you know, for letting me sleep in your bed."

He assured her it was no problem as he set a few plates between them. Ada was going to decline any breakfast, but then she smelled browning toast and saw the jam and butter along with juice. It wasn't a buffet, but it was a healthy, substantial start to the day, and she realized that she was starving after the efforts of last night. She took a square of toast and started chewing, trying not to look or sound as hungry as she felt.

Leon helped himself to his own toast, washing it down with some orange juice. The two of them ate in silence for a while, and just as she was considering breaking it, he beat her to it.

"I'm going to have to contact the GSA sooner or later."

She grimaced, but there was no point in arguing. Instead, she nodded. "I know. If you don't check in, they're going to start looking."

"And that's exactly what Wesker and Crow want," he finished as he drained the rest of his glass. It made him sound defeated. "They'll be able to piggy back on our operations, and we won't be able to stop them when they find us."

"You've been silent this whole time. Don't you think it's going to be a little awkward when you call today and say that you're in DC?"

Leon pursed his lips, looking down at the countertop in thought. "I gave it some thought last night. Assuming we neutralized all of our pursuers, they don't know that we escaped together. If I call the GSA and say you ditched me later that night, it might be enough to give them the slip, at least for now. I could say that I tried to hunt you down, but was unsuccessful, and just got in here. They won't think to track me as closely."

It sounded like a good idea. Ada considered it carefully through another piece of toast, watching him carefully as he spoke. Something just seemed off the way he said it…there was sort of a dejected sigh in his voice, like he didn't agree with his own words.

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Leon. The plan sounds solid, but _you_ sound like you have your doubts." She placed her elbows on the counter to lean in a little after a sip from her glass. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'll call Fischer and tell him the story. He trusts me, and he'll believe me."

Bingo. She hit the nail on the head. "You don't like lying to your own people," she said. "Even though you have to."

"What I don't like is not knowing who to trust," he said, starting on another piece of toast. She felt his eyes linger on hers as he chewed, but she couldn't blame him. She stared right back. "I have no idea how far up the infiltration goes. I've worked with Fischer for years, but I now I'm starting to think I can't trust him either."

"You think he would put himself in the line of fire with that incident in New York?" she offered. "If Wesker wanted Graham dead, they wouldn't need to go to such public extremes."

"Unless Wesker wanted it to be a public spectacle," Leon countered. "Or maybe the whole thing was a feint to keep us guessing, I don't know. It's likely Fischer isn't working against us, but it could be anyone in the GSA that has access to any of our information. I tell Fischer one thing, it won't be long before a mole knows it, too."

"However it falls, you're not going to be able to hide this from your boss," she said. An idea had just come to her. "Do you trust the president?"

He rolled his eyes. "Of course I do. Graham is the one person I know I can trust, regardless of anything. If I can't trust the President, then we're all screwed."

"Then check in with the GSA. Tell them I got away, but that I gave you the information before we were ambushed. You have Spencer's location…" she drained her juice, the sweet tang of oranges cleansing her pallet. "…and the world has a shiny new counter-bioterrorism organization to apprehend him."

Leon paused, and then grinned, seeing her point. "You're saying I should propose to let the BSAA handle this. Graham and the UN set it up, not the GSA."

Ada nodded. "Exactly. Don't want a potential mole to get the information? Put it in a place he can't access it, at least while they haven't infiltrated it yet. If the BSAA is fast enough, they can get to Spencer before he disappears again, or before Wesker and Crow can get to him first."

She pushed the last corner of toast into her mouth and chewed while Leon thought it over. They were working with very little, and there was too much guesswork for her taste. But in the end, he nodded, then looked up at her.

"Alright. We'll do it. I'll call Fischer, tell him that I have the information you gave me, and that we can only discuss it with the President. You'll stay here and lay low until we can move you safely. Sound good?"

She nodded. It was as good as they were going to get. Leon's apartment seemed like it would be a safe enough place until they grabbed Spencer. If they could just trick whoever the insider at the GSA was, everything would work out.

She looked at him with a grin, one final thought on her mind. "Do you think you could pick up some clothes for me along the way?"


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"Kennedy, you keep looking at your watch," Fischer pointed out, sounding a little irritated. "Waiting for something to happen?"

Leon glanced up from his wrist. Now that he thought about it, he realized he had checked it four or five times in the last couple of minutes. Two o'clock was coming slowly. _Very_ slowly.

"Sorry, sir." He forced his hand back to his knee and gripped it tightly, trying to relax into the chair. The fabric of his dress pants wrinkled beneath his fingers. "Just a little nervous about this."

President Graham frowned behind his desk. "Are you having second thoughts, Agent Kennedy?"

_Plenty, but this is our only option._ "No, Mr. President. This is our best course of action. We don't have any other leads or options."

His nerves were a combination of several things: planting false intelligence that Ada had gotten away when she was actually in the city right under their nose, involving a new and relatively untested counter-bioterrorism agency, and most of all, acting on information given to them by Ada herself. He wanted to trust her. He really did, but with her there was always a 'what if'. It didn't help that he was sitting the Oval Office with Graham and Fischer, two people he looked in the eye and lied to.

Lying to the man whose family he had sworn to protect didn't sit well with him.

"Too late to be backing out now," Fischer said. He was sitting across from him in front of Graham's desk. "The BSAA won't back down if we send them away empty-handed after we built this up."

Graham's phone buzzed on the desktop. He pressed the intercom. "Yes Susan?"

"_The agents from the BSAA are here, Mr. President,_" said his secretary from the other side.

"Thank you, please send them in."

Fischer and Leon rose to their feet. He caught a "here we go" type of look from his boss, the same type of look you gave someone before you jumped out of an airplane for the first time. He straightened his tie a little; it helped him look only a little less tired. Fischer had been pulling some rough hours the past few days. The trip to escort Graham back home was especially taxing for him.

He was wondering who the BSAA would send the entire morning. Neither he or Fischer asked Graham for details. He had been prepared to deal with someone fresh out of boot camp, but as soon as the secretary opened the door and ushered in two people, he immediately smiled. "I should've known."

It was none other than Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine.

"Yes, you should have," Chris said, returning his smile and offering his hand. He looked a little out of place in a suit and tie with his thick, tank-like stature. He was clean shaven, but his hair was still mussed, just like when he last saw him. "It's been a while, Leon."

"Too long," he agreed, taking his hand and shaking it before turning to Jill. Like Chris, she was dressed in a tailored suit, but she'd grown her hair out to just past shoulder length since he last saw her. "Good to see you too, Jill."

"Hi Leon," she smiled, turning their shake into a friendly hug. "Good to see you."

If there was anyone that made him feel better about dealing with Spencer, it was Chris and Jill. They, like him, were some of the few that were there from the beginning in Raccoon City. If they worked for the BSAA, then maybe his reservations about them being new and inexperienced were ill-founded.

But as they exchanged pleasantries, and as he introduced them to Fischer and Graham, he noticed something just a little off about them. Chris still stood at his full, respectable height, and moved with a slight swagger that was an artifact of his build. Jill was still warm and friendly, moving with a subtle energy and a bounce in her step. Nothing appeared different, but he figured it out when they sat down with Graham at his desk between Leon and Fischer.

They both looked _tired._

It wasn't a physical fatigue. Leon barely noticed it on Jill when she glanced at him and smiled as she settled into the comfy leather chair. Hidden deep within her blue eyes was a dull, fazed expression. All that was missing were circles under them. She was still young and in the prime of her life, and he would even call her attractive, but that look put years onto her face. Chris wasn't much better.

It was the look of someone traveling constantly under stress. Of someone constantly fighting. It was also the grim look of loss. He knew they had both seen a lot of things they tried to forget each day. Diving headfirst into it almost every day wasn't the best way to do that.

He caught himself staring and snapped himself out of the funk as the meeting started before Jill noticed his look.

"Thank you both for coming on such short notice," Graham began, sitting behind his desk once the four of them settled in their seats. "I realize we didn't give you very much information as to why we asked you to come, and I apologize for that."

"We felt it was a necessary security measure," Fischer chimed in. "What we have is very important. We can't afford leaks."

"It's okay, Mr. President," Jill said, crossing her legs and smiling pleasantly. "We're used to going to less-desirable areas on a lot less. This is a nice change of pace."

"What did you find?" Chris asked, being a little more direct.

Fischer glanced at Leon, and automatically, everyone followed suite. Fischer had said that he should be the one to do most of the talking, since Ada had been the one to share the information with him. They also agreed that she be left out of it; there was too much bad blood with the organization, and it was part of the original deal as well. Anything they could do to foster more trust out of her was critical.

"We received information about the possible whereabouts of Ozwell Spencer," he said, after a slightly awkward pause.

Silence, then Jill let out a breath and glanced at Chris. He didn't meet her gaze; instead, he stared hard at Leon in disbelief. "You're kidding."

_Sounds familiar…_"No. We can't verify or guarantee we have his location, but we have enough that it's _probable_."

Jill leaned towards Chris and whispered excitedly in his ear. "Chris, if we can get to Spencer–"

"—he might be able to point us to Wesker," he finished, quickly glancing back to her, and then looked to Leon again. "How reliable is this? Who gave you his location?"

Leon glanced to Fischer, who raised an eyebrow. _Stick to the plan._ "The party in question requested to stay anonymous. The information should be reliable…but…"

"But…?" Jill echoed.

"But we still have reason to believe it might not be all legitimate," he finished with a sigh. "As in, we can't guarantee the BSAA won't be heading into a tight situation. The party wasn't able to specify what kind of opposition we're dealing with."

"You think it might be a trap?" Chris asked.

He shrugged, spreading his hands. "Could be. It came at an awful convenient time. The truth is, we just don't know. What I _do_ know is we have to decide whether we use it, and quickly. It's going on forty-eight hours since the information was extracted, and the party in question probably didn't do it discreetly. Spencer could get wise to the leak, and we might not be the only ones looking for him."

Chris turned to Jill, who only shrugged and gave him and odd look. He appeared to think for a minute, and then turned back to Leon, Graham, and Fischer. "What are the details?"

"Well, we haven't had time to do a thorough investigation." Leon took a folder from the President's desk and handed it to him. "Some initial satellite photos and research on the area. It's in an area of western Romania. Private property, away from anything settled, but we've identified a single structure at the coordinates given."

"Western Romania?" Jill echoed, peering over Chris's shoulder until he handed her one of the maps. "As in Transylvania?"

Chris gave a hollow laugh. "Kinda figures, I guess."

"Like I said, strength of opposition is unknown, and we can't confirm for certain if Spencer is hiding there or if he's moved out." He sighed. "Which means if the BSAA goes in, they go in blind."

Silence fell over them. Fischer crossed his arms, waiting patiently. Graham leaned back in his chair with a creak, looking thoughtfully at the two agents. Chris and Jill looked at each other. Jill leaned in close again to whisper in Chris's ear, but Leon couldn't make out what she was saying, even so close to them. Chris whispered back to Jill, and she nodded. Finally he looked up. "We can be ready to move out in three hours."

"Three hours?" Fischer repeated in a surprised tone.

"Like you said, Spencer might be getting ready to relocate," Chris said. "We need to hit him now, and we are going to lose a lot of time with the flight over there."

"Do you need to contact any of your other teammates?" Graham asked. "You can use any of the resources we have."

Jill shook her head. "No sir. Chris and I _are_ the team."

"Whoa," Leon said, holding up a hand. "You're not going in alone."

Jill was firm. "Having two people infiltrate is much more discreet than an entire team. If we back Spencer into a corner, the situation could turn ugly, especially if we don't know what's waiting for us. The more people, the more casualties."

_Yeah, only you two die instead. Real comforting._

"Don't worry," Chris assured him. "Jill and I have more experience with this than anyone in the BSAA. Bringing someone inexperienced might complicate things." He looked to Graham. "With your permission of course, Mr. President."

This time it was Leon and Fischer's turn to look to Graham. But the President simply nodded his head. "I have been advised by Director Fischer and Agent Kennedy about the whole situation. This is something that needs to happen. You have a go."

Just like that, the meeting was concluded. Chris and Jill exchanged polite good-byes with Graham, and they left with Fischer and Leon to go prep for the mission.

"If you'd like, Agent Valentine, I could help you arrange some transportation," Fischer offered as they walked down the hall. "The faster you can get in the air, the faster the op can get underway."

"Thank you, Director," Jill said graciously. "That would be great. HQ can supply our equipment once we get to Europe, but if you have any way to expedite the process, we'd be very grateful."

Fischer and Jill began to outline a few details regarding flights from DC to Eastern Europe. Fischer pulled his phone out, and soon, the two of them were taking turns talking through it. Chris and Leon walked behind them, slowing their stride to put a few paces between them so they could work undisturbed.

"So how's Claire been?" Leon asked Chris. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

He chuckled. "Still married to her job. I'm not around much anymore, so I guess she has to keep busy somehow."

"She's still with TerraSave, then? Where do they have her this time?"

Chris rubbed his chin. "Ah…India, I think. Organizing some protests. She was there last week when she called. I'm starting to lose track of where she's been. The week before it was Belize, and before that Nigeria. One of these days, I'm going to make sure she gets back to school and graduates."

"Well, as long as she stays out of trouble, that's the main thing."

"Try telling her that," Chris said with a dry laugh. "I was on an op in Kuwait with Jill during Harvardville. I freaked when I heard about it."

"I'm just glad I was able to help out," Leon said sincerely. "Things got a little hairy there."

"And I'm glad you were there," Chris said just as sincerely. His eyes went dark for a moment. "I can't imagine what I'd do without her."

The conversation about Chris's sister trailed off there. She was well, and he was glad for that. He'd like to get together with the both of them and have a few drinks, but nights out with people he knew were becoming a rarity.

"Chris?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think of this?"

"About the mission?" he clarified, then rubbed his chin again. "I'll agree, it sounds a little too good to be true, but it's too good to pass up all the same. Spencer is ultimately responsible for turning Wesker into the man he is, so he's as good a place to start as any. Plus, with him in custody, the UN might be able to get a handle on some of the B.O.W outbreaks with the information he has. It'd also give the world a little closure for once."

Leon nodded in agreement. There was the physical of reward of getting Spencer in a cell: the bioterrorism network would lose a major hub, and the BSAA would gain part of their playbook. Then there was the emotional reward, as Chris had said: it would give a chance for people like Claire to sleep better at night, and give them hope that the systems being employed would actually make their lives safer.

A lot was riding on this…riding on Ada's word, and she was someone he thought he could never trust, no matter how much he wanted to. Now he was trusting someone else's lives to that word.

He pushed the discomfort aside and changed the subject, catching up on a few things since they last saw each other. It wasn't like they were sending in the army or someone inexperienced; Chris and Jill were as every bit as professional as he was, with just as much experience, if not more. If there was anyone who was qualified for the mission, it was them.

The GSA had a helicopter waiting for them on the White House's south lawn. Leon bade them one final good-bye and good luck as they boarded, waving as it lifted off. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the uneasiness wouldn't leave his gut.

He should have listened to his instincts.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Ada was never a fan of sweatpants, but Leon had picked up a pair of them for her along with some other clothes. She wasn't going to complain at his hospitality, but still, she wished she had worked up the nerve to tell him her size so he could have picked up something more her taste. At least they were comfortable, and they weren't really half bad. She was just used to more expensive and more fashionable loungewear. It was better than wearing a dress that needed washing though, or—God forbid—wearing his clothes.

Now if only she could do something about being bored out of her mind. There wasn't much to do around the apartment, and even though Leon had a satellite dish and about five hundred channels on an impressive entertainment system, she got the impression that he didn't use it much. It felt like she was living the life of an unemployed slacker who sat around watching really bad daytime soap operas. Unlike a slacker, however, she at least could kill a few hours by doing some exercising.

When the door to the apartment nearly burst from its hinges, she jumped off the couch instinctively. She'd been half-expecting an attack the last day or so, but her gun was in the other room. Now her own carelessness was going to get her killed. She had just mantled the back of the couch when she suddenly stopped her sudden rush to arm herself.

It was Leon…and he was _glaring_ at her.

"Leon…what's the matter?" she asked. Her nerves relaxed…but only a little.

The look he focused at her sent a chill down her spine. It wasn't anger; it went much deeper than that. Whatever it was, his upper lip curled back, and both of his hands were tightened into fists. She took an apprehensive step back as he walked, no, _stormed_ straight for her.

"You…you…"

For a split second, Ada thought he was going to hit her.

He didn't, but he reached out and _slammed _her against the wall by the shoulders. Not hard enough to hurt, but her cracked rib picked up the slack as the impact registered through her body. Her elbow bumped the drywall behind her, and a hanging picture clattered to the floor with the sound of broken glass.

If she had known it was coming, she might have fought back or resisted, but the fact that it came from Leon of all people rooted her to the spot. One of his hands had her by the shoulder, the other on the opposite upper arm. Both squeezed tightly. Impulsively she wriggled, but he pushed her back again, and she immediately went still, save for her fluttering breath. Her rib throbbed angrily, but it felt distant.

"Leon—"

"_You set us up!_" he yelled.

Flabbergasted, all she could do was gape at him and try to twist free of his grip again. When she did, his hands only tightened further. _Painfully._ "Leon, what—"

"You set us up!" he repeated. "Should have seen it from the beginning—"

"Leon, _what happened?_" she managed to get out.

"He was waiting for them…" he hissed.

"He?" she asked, and then the chill in her spine intensified as she put it together. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. "He…Wesker. Oh God, what happened?"

The force of his fingers remained for a moment, but he finally let go, albeit not gently. He took a few steps back, running a hand through his hair as if he lost interest in her. Ada quickly shifted to the side, giving herself some room to move while avoiding the broken glass near her bare feet.

"He was waiting for them," he repeated "Chris and Jill moved in on Spencer, and Wesker was waiting for them. Spencer was already dead when they got there."

The questions and possibilities flew through her mind as she struggled to comprehend what he just said. How did Wesker find Spencer? Maybe they had been working together the whole time…but Wesker killed him? Why wait until now? But then…

"Leon," she asked carefully, "What happened to the BSAA?"

He didn't turn around, and his silence only increased the dread growing in her stomach.

"Leon—"

He finally turned. "She's dead," he spat. "Jill is dead."

The words hit like a bullet. Jill Valentine, dead? She didn't know her personally, but it was a shock to hear it.

…_unless Wesker was involved._

"…and Wesker?" she asked.

"Undetermined," he said with a bitter scoff. "All I know is that Jill dragged him off a cliff. They haven't found either of their bodies, and there's no way they could have survived the fall. Chris is still in shock, and I just got off the phone with his sister. She's frantic."

So that was what happened. She looked away, not sure why she felt as guilty as she did. Everyone knew what they were getting into, what the risks were, but none of them expected Wesker to be waiting for them. The feeling of him setting a trap was unnerving, and a small part of her was glad that it wasn't sprung on her. A very small part. The other part of her wanted to be glad that Wesker was dead, but it was like Leo had said: they weren't sure if he was yet.

When she looked back to him, he was looking at her accusingly.

"You think I had something to do with it?" she asked, an indignant crimson blush spreading across her cheeks when she realized what really had him so angry. It was soon joined by a glare of her own. "You think I set the BSAA up? Leon, you have no idea what I went through to get that information, or what I risked trying to get it to you! Both of us almost got killed!"

"And it was a pretty convincing show, too," he said dryly. "But it wouldn't be the first time you had to get a little beat up just to put on a good performance."

She bared her teeth, but held back the words that nearly sprang from her mouth as well as the slap she wanted to give him. What he said felt like a blow to her face. The trust she had with him was fragile on the best of terms. Now it was gone, it wasn't her fault, and he wasn't even giving her the benefit of a doubt.

"Leon, I didn't have anything to do with this," she snapped. "You knew the risks. They knew the risks. _I _knew the risks. Do you really think I would go and betray your trust just to take a shot at the BSAA? I thought that I could help you, because I didn't have anyone else left to turn to!"

"I'd _really_ like to believe you, Ada," he said quietly. It wasn't his tone that boiled her temper, but the half-assed grin he threw with it. Like it was all a big joke that had been sprung on him. "But I think I've been doing too much of that."

With an indignant scoff, she dropped her gaze and brushed past him, intending on leaving for good. Her jaw clenched as she held back what she wanted to scream at him. If he wasn't going to listen, then she wasn't going to say anything.

Except as she brushed past, he grabbed her by the wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Away, since you obviously don't think I'm worth your time." She jerked back, but his grip stayed firm. The hurt of his words and the sense of betrayal spread to her gut. "Let me go!"

His face remained bitter as he let out a harsh laugh. "You think you can just walk away? You think I'm going to _let_ you walk away?"

"Leon…" she warned. "Let me go."

He shook his head in amusement. His eyes showed a cold resolve that, with an air of cold familiarity, she recognized from Spain. Right before the parasite briefly took control and started to strangle her, only his grin wasn't as wide and maniacal, and his eyes didn't glow a dull red.

"I should have dragged you in kicking and screaming. Screw whether my organization is corrupt or not. Maybe they'd be doing the world a favor if they—"

—she lifted her leg between them, the flat of her thigh burying deep into his crotch. Leon broke off with a grunt and dropped to his hands and knees like a sack of bricks, coughing.

_Bastard! How could he say that?_

She stormed off, leaving him gasping, but she didn't make it five steps before her anger was replaced with guilt. It was easy to hate him, but that would just be rationalizing it. He had every right to feel the way he did. The reason why he could barely trust her to begin with was her own doing, and now, when everything came undone she had nothing left to patch the wound. If she walked out now, it would be the same as pulling a gun on him when his back was turned The same as using a kiss as a distraction. The same as leaving him with a bullet in his gut.

Ada shook her head in frustration, then turned on her heel and walked back to him. "Leon, I'm—"

—he lashed out, hooking his arm behind her knee, and then yanked back. She tumbled to the floor, crying out as she landed on her injured rib. The carpet dulled some of the impact, but stars still swam behind her eyes as her skull hit the ground. Then she was being turned over, heavy weight pinning her down.

She grunted and thrashed, suppressing the agony from the pain in her ribs as Leon settled on top of her. He had one of her arms locked behind her, but she managed to pull the other free before he could complete the pin. She flailed up and behind her, feeling an impact and his grip loosen. With a heave, she threw herself as much as she could to the side, managing to just topple him.

Even though she got to her feet first she didn't have any idea what she was going to do, but it didn't matter. Leon caught her by the ankle and jerked again, but this time she managed to control her fall and land on her butt, then pull back her leg and kick off his chest as he tried to dive on her. She got back to her feet.

"Leon, what are you—" she managed to pant out before he got up and launched himself at her again.

He grabbed her arm, to which she responded with a palm to the chest, unwilling to strike a more vital spot. This only allowed him to grab her other arm, and he pushed her back into the kitchen counter. With his advantage in weight, he was able to turn her around and lock her into a crude half-nelson, pressing her body between the counter, a few dishes, and his own body.

"Should have dragged you in the first chance I had," he grunted in her ear, tightening his hold. His breaths were ragged with effort.

She grunted indignantly, then again in frustration as she thrashed futilely under him. The plate that was crammed against her cheek slid off the counter and broke, and then she bucked her head up, feeling the back of her skull connect with his chin. The hold loosened just enough for her to get one arm free and push against the counter. Unfortunately, she smashed her own chin onto the counter as forced his weight off. Hot pain spread through her jaw like fire.

"Leon, stop it!" she yelled. "I didn't set you up! Just listen to me!"

He lunged for her, holding his chin, but she easily ducked under it. Too late she held back the sharp jab that landed on his ribs as she shuffled back. Leon grunted, but didn't show any other sign of pain as he rounded on her again. His hand closed on her arm, and she punched again, this time clocking him in the eye. She briefly wondered why he hadn't even tried to land a blow and only settled for restraining her. Probably because every hit she had landed so far only increased the guilt building in her gut.

_I doubt he'll hold a few punches against me at this point, _she thought bitterly. _Maybe it'll knock some sense into him._

She skipped around the edge of the counter, but realized that it was a stupid move that trapped her behind it. Leon tensed low like a wrestler, carefully calculating her moves. Ada was poised to dodge either way, but didn't have enough room to evade properly. She was still thinking of a strategy when he moved.

She wasn't fast enough to dodge the charge. His shoulder speared her gut, igniting her ribs, and he slammed her into the fridge. Magnets and a utilities bill clattered to the floor. She managed to draw back her arm, intending to strike the side of his neck, but her blow was clumsy, and he shrugged it off at the shoulder, then pinned her arm against the door. He had the other at her hip with one arm around her waist.

Knowing she couldn't match his strength, she thrashed anyway, not enough space between their bodies to use her legs—

—he leaned in and his lips were suddenly on hers, forcefully pushing her head back into the door.

A new reflex kicked in; Ada moaned and returned the kiss, suddenly forgetting that he still had her pinned against his fridge with his arms and hips. The last time she had tasted him was in the middle of a gunfight, but it was still as good as she remembered. Heat began to well up from within her body, only this time it wasn't from movement.

Then she realized what was happening over the tidal wave of passion. At the same time, it seemed Leon did too, but she was faster. They broke contact, and she butted her head forward, catching him right in the eye. He stumbled back, reeling against the kitchen counter–

–and she was on _him_, body pressed against his as she clasped her hands behind his head, drawing her mouth to his. His taste flooded her mouth as her tongue forced its way in to mingle with his. He was good, but she was going to show him how she wanted to be kissed.

His hands were on her, but she didn't care. They were exploring, not trying to hold her down. A thrilling tingle washed down her spine as they suddenly tightened, but all he did was flex, then roll her over, pinning her down on the counter…but gently.

She laughed giddily as he bore down on her, only too happy to coil her legs around his waist as they locked lips again. Anything to press his hips harder onto hers. The malice and fury had disappeared from his eyes, but he still seemed determined, and his mouth moved with a sense of urgency. She gladly matched that urgency.

By the time Leon moved to her neck and collarbone, she was sweating. The room had suddenly turned into a sauna, and the exertion of what transpired had already dampened her clothes. Had that actually happened? It seemed distant now. She couldn't think why they would fight like that. This is what they needed to be doing. What they _should have_ been doing all this time.

She grabbed the front of his button-down shirt, having to feel where the buttons were. His mouth was too busy with her neck for her to see properly. She got one of them undone with eager fingers, but some playful nibbling made her gasp and lose the next one. _To hell with it._ She simply yanked it up the middle, popping the rest free.

He lifted her up, hands firmly holding her by the thighs while her legs did the rest, still locked around his waist. Somehow, they were able to both claw the garment off without him dropping her.

"Bedroom. Now," she panted.

"Yeah."

His hands were full, so she didn't waste any time getting her own shirt off, then let it fall in the hallway to the bedroom. The heat from his body mingled with her own as they touched chests, and for once, she was thankful that she didn't have a bra to unbuckle.

He all but dropped her onto the bed, but it was a soft, desired landing. The weight of his body pressed her deeper into the sheets as he moved on top of her and together they shed the rest of their clothes. He moved like waves against her, and for the first time, she didn't need to care about who she was sleeping with; the only thing that mattered was that it was with the only person she could ever truly trust.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

People had their own unique ways of dealing with loss. Excella Gionne was one of those who took it out on everyone but herself. In person, it was a fit of yelling and screaming, and if not, it was usually through a phone call with the same amount of yelling and screaming, followed by an abrupt hang up. Typical of a rich and spoiled aristocrat.

"This is unacceptable. _Unacceptable_! I told you those cultures were to be finished by yesterday!"

Crow rubbed his temples as she unleashed yet another salvo into her phone, leaning forward on the cushy leather couch in her office, back in the privacy of her villa. It had to be at least the third call this morning, and that was only counting the ones she had picked up on her cell phone. Her office phone had rung several times, but she was occupied with verbally lashing her current cell phone caller to pick it up. While he would admit he was feeling a little tense himself in the wake of Wesker's death, she was taking things a little too far. Drawing too much attention to herself.

"Excella, my dear," he said tiredly as she angrily disconnected her call with a stab of her thumb. "Don't you think this would be a good time to calm down?"

She rounded on him, stepping from the rut she had worn pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling office windows behind her desk, eyes glittering in rage. It was hard to take her seriously in sheer ivory silk, but on the other hand, maybe it was suppose to make her more intimidating. Crow had learned to tune out her childish tantrums within weeks of working with her, but it was always rather entertaining to see her so roused.

"Do you have any idea what the Board of Directors will do when they find out about this?" she hissed, pointing an accusing finger in his direction. "This is _not_ a time to be calming down!"

He gave her a quizzical, amused look. "I was under the pretense that the of directors didn't even know about Albert and I, at least in the direct sense, so why exactly would they care about his untimely death?"

She rolled her eyes in frustration, sighing in exasperation as she put a palm to her forehead. "Without Albert, our current projects are in disarray! My review is in three months, and without his work, I have nothing to present to the company! _Cazzo!_ The Decimator series was far too unstable to make a viable weapon, he assured me—"

"—but do you think yelling at each and every one of your subordinates will really accomplish anything?" he asked tentatively, moving from his spot on the couch to casually pace before her, almost nonchalant. "If anything, it might give you the impression that you are weak, disorganized, and—"

"_Veffanculo!_" she snapped, suddenly ablaze. She jabbed her finger to his chest again, this time actually making contact against his dress shirt and forcing him to retreat a small step back against the glass and steel frame of her desk. "I am _not_ weak! If these miserable little cretins would just do as I ask and make themselves worth my time! And Albert, the _bastardo_, goes and gets himself killed, and we have no idea if he led the BSAA straight to our front door!"

"Knowing Albert, that doesn't sound like something he would be foolish enough to overlook," Crow said flatly, holding his ground. "But that's not to say that the BSAA is now in possession of some very unique and very valuable information salvaged from Spencer's estate. His sudden appearance might make them more interested in the major pharmaceutics corporations as well."

"I'm sorry, this is supposed to be helping me calm down?" she nearly shrieked. He had to lean back slightly as she stuck her face towards his. It went in hand with her yelling; she tended to get _very _personable when angry. Up so close, she smelled of expensive perfume and stress, an oddly pleasing smell.

Crow raised his hands defensively. "I'm sorry. Please, Excella, just hear me out."

She held her glare for a few seconds longer, breathing a little harder than normal, then slowly relaxed, dropping her accusative point and folding her arms across her stomach. Her jade eyes still glittered maliciously, but at least her lip wasn't curled back in a sneer.

"Now," he started patiently, as if speaking to a child after a tantrum, which wasn't very far from the truth. "Close your eyes, take some deep breaths, and just try to clear your mind. There's a good girl."

"_Don't_ try to humor me, James," she warned flatly, but did as he asked. He took the chance to give her a thorough look from head to toe in the rare moment of serenity.

"Very well, then I shall get straight to the point." Crow moved to her side, placing his hands on her shoulders and leaning back a bit on her desk. He noticed that she enjoyed his physical contact and took pride that it was a measure of trust between them. To most, Excella was the marble statue behind the velvet rope; _don't touch._ "I realize that with the demise of Albert, our plans have suffered a major setback. I can't imagine the stress you must be feeling right now."

"These things…are difficult, James," Excella said, raising a hand to her temple to lightly knead it. There was a rare quiver in her voice, almost like she was on the verge of breaking down. Maybe he mistook her anger and frustration for something else. _What then? Mourning? Outright fear? _"Without Albert, I'm not sure if we can reproduce our current projects, or even finish the ones in progress. After we liquidated the Decimator series—"

"—and that seems to be the root of your problems, my dear," he interrupted, finally picking up the trend which seemed to dot each of her conversations. "It's always 'Albert this', and 'Albert that'. Tell me, other than your charming personality and beauty, why do you think I decided to approach you with our services?"

She grinned a little at his deliberate ego stroke. "You needed a link to resources; a company to supply your research. And Tricell is the best."

"No," he corrected, smiling in return at her reaction. Excella was never the one to turn down any form of praise, regardless if it was only flattery. "_You _are the best. The Board of Directors refuses to see past your surname. In a very short time, you've shown them otherwise: that a Gionne is worth far more than a full-blooded Travis."

"With a little help from you and Albert, I might add." She opened her eyes and turned to face him, shrugging off his hands. She sounded a little frustrated, but at least she was speaking normally. The quiver in her voice didn't return, and she wasn't glaring holes through him with her glare. It looked like he was finally getting somewhere. "You did give me access to the U.M.F.-013. Umbrella's research on a silver platter."

"Yes, I'll admit we did," he agreed. It had been a calculated risk, too. Wesker had been initially hesitant at the idea, but fortunately for them, Excella proved to be fairly reasonable. At least in some aspects, and mostly pertaining to her career. "And I could ramble on about how you were far more intelligent than using it, but that's beside the point."

He took her hands in his, feeling their warmth and smoothness. The type of work exerted on them wasn't strenuous, yet what they produced was nothing short of marvelous.

"So I believe the moral to my little speech is this," he continued. "You hold yourself on too tight a leash to Albert. He's gone, and I'm sure we will sorely feel the absence of his brilliance, if not his rather…cold demeanor. Instead my dear, it's time for you to take the reigns of Tricell's projects. You can show the Board exactly why you're the best candidate for the CEO position, and you can do it without Albert's help."

"And when I attain that position?" she asked loftily, giving him a wary eye. She seemed to be cautious of the flattery now, as if she was looking for a hidden meaning that she might regret their bargain later. "You still haven't told me what your motivation for backing me is, James…and I'm sure it's not just because of my 'charming personality', as you so eloquently put it."

She leaned in close suddenly, smiling, her face very close to his. One of her hands left his to playfully trace the side of his jaw, and a flutter ran through his stomach. She looked absolutely devilish at that angle, her green eyes filling up most of his vision with their allure. Right then and their, he thought he would tell her anything she wanted to know.

"So, James," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "Would you care to share with what you plan to do with me afterwards?"

_Oh, the things I could do with you._

He smiled as a legitimate light sweat broke out on his forehead. She was certainly curious, even if she hid it most of the time, but he wasn't about to let her manipulate him so easily. "In due time, Excella, in due time. For now, we must be content with watching the world squirm beneath our fingers." With that, he gently squeezed her fingers in his to emphasize the point. He was the outside force that would close her grasp around the seat of Tricell's power.

She cocked her head in thought, a small grin across her lips as she considered what he said. He knew the offer was appealing to her. Revenge was something that drove her to the core. Not violent retribution, but the fact that she had been mistreated by her own company for being of 'tainted blood'. She wanted revenge by crushing those on her way to the top so she could look down upon them all.

"I suppose you're right," she said. Back to the same, confident purr he was so used to hearing. "It _is_ time that I begin to take control of my company. It's only a matter a time, after all." She regarded him with another sly, suggestive look. "You certainly know how to motivate a woman with words…"

He grinned back. "I consider it one of my more under-appreciated talents. And I must say you can be equally persuasive as well."

She removed her hand from his. Crow was sorry to have to let go, but she straightened a frill on her dress and held her chin high. "I think I will take the rest of the afternoon off to get my affairs in order. _Someone_ around here has to do most of the work." With that, she walked to the door, but paused and glanced back at him after opening it. "…you'll join me for dinner on the veranda this evening, won't you? I think there are some more things that we should discuss."

Crow beamed at her. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

She left, leaving him to straighten his tie. _A truly remarkable woman._ Excella was the authentic package; brains, beauty, refinement, and motivation all rolled into one. But if that was the case, why did he still pine about Ada Wong?

If it was one thing he could say Excella lacked, it was what Ada had. Now if only he knew what it was…

He reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out his PDA, then punched a number. The line connected to his operative working with the Tricell forces. "You still have the GSA under surveillance?"

"_Yes sir. Wong has not resurfaced since her initial contact._"

_Hm, troubling,_ he thought. It wasn't like Ada to just tuck tail and run after an encounter like that, especially from right under their noses. Where had she disappeared to?_ Ultimately irrelevant._ "And the BSAA?"

"_They are continuing their joint operation with the GSA. Most of their resources are currently devoted to recovering Agent Valentine's and Director Wesker's bodies._"

"What about the information recovered from the Spencer estate?"

"_We initially thought both agencies would be handling it, but it looks like the entirety of the recovered files was given to the GSA for review. From there, they may begin to distribute it to the other agencies and other countries._"

"I'm authorizing you to extract it now, but I want it to be discreet. Make sure the backups are wiped. We need to be the only ones who know what was recovered from Spencer."

"_...what about the ones already exposed to it?_"

"Terminate with extreme prejudice."

"_Yes sir._"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Her body awash with sweat, Ada Wong lay somewhere between the line of sleep and awake, nude and tangled in the sheets of Leon's bed. The droplets on her skin finally began to feel cool as her inner temperature began to subside from the high she just experienced. It wasn't the over-and-done-with feeling after the sex she was used to the past six years. This had to be what satisfaction felt like.

Leon's arm was around her shoulder, holding her body close to his with her neck softly nestled in the crook of his elbow. She thought he had drifted off some time ago, judging from the slow, steady rhythm of his breath on her neck, but then his other hand began to idly explore her bare body. He wasn't invasive; just letting the tips of his fingers glance over her skin, running up and down the curves like a collector might admire a classic car. It was teasing of him, but she let him amuse himself. He'd earned it, after all.

It wasn't until several minutes later that she realized his hand was drifting to specific spots, spots that she remembered. They were the faint scars that were normally just barely noticeable in full light, that she caught him staring at when she partially stripped upon first arriving in his home.

His fingers found one, a lopsided hook on the curve of her left hip, and then tapped thoughtfully, but gently, on the skin. Almost like he was inquiring about it.

"Third grade," she murmured.

"Hmm?"

"I got it in third grade," she repeated quietly, a little more awake this time. "Fell over the front of my handlebars when I hit a curb on my bike."

He chuckled softly, probably about thinking of her as a kid. He toyed with the discolored patch of skin a little longer, then let his hand drift further up. The trace of his finger was a soft purr on her damp skin, especially as it moved up the sensitive skin on her side. The sensation was joined by another on her neck: his lips as he planted a soft kiss. "What about this one?"

It was the jagged one below her shoulder blade. Her muscles instinctively flexed when she remembered. "Mexico, about four years ago. A chase through a slum…what they did to me after that didn't leave any scars."

His silence was uneasy, but his hand lingered, tracing a pattern on her skin around it. Goosebumps rose up all over. Only he could make a bad memory like that feel so good.

"It's not what you think," she said, a little exasperated through the exhaustion, "but it involved a car battery. I got sloppy, but I was lucky someone had my back. If I didn't, I'd have a lot more scars for you to find…"

What she didn't want was pity. Her job had demands, and that meant risks. She knew what the risks where, and sometimes, you got the worst of it. Like four years ago. His job was almost the same as hers, so he couldn't argue.

Another kiss touched her neck as he nuzzled against the soft mess that was her hair. The bangs were in disarray, the raven locks damp with moisture. Leon's hand traced again, this time across her back to her other shoulder, this one pressed between the mattress and his chest. He didn't have to ask about the one he found.

"You know which one that is," she said, the pang of the memory trickling through her as he touched it. His hands were always soft, but she wondered if he could feel the metal surgical pins beneath it and the plate that held what was left of her shoulder blade together after Annette Birkin's bullet tore right through it.

"Yeah, I do," he replied.

The seconds ticked between them. His hand didn't leave the scar. "…you want me to apologize?" she asked

"For what?"

Ada rolled over, what little of the sheet that was on her shifting. The room was stifling, a blanket in itself. The comforter that had been on the bed to start with now lay kicked off to the side, and even then, the thin blanket felt like a quilt.

She found herself staring straight into his eyes, his face an inch away. "I don't know, maybe for being what I was to you. For walking into your life. For not being what I _should_ have been." His arm still around her, she slung one of hers across his body, drawing herself closer to his warmth and taking comfort in his presence.

"You think I should hold it against you?" he asked, returning the embrace.

"You should," she admitted. "Anyone else would. I'd say you're entitled to it."

"Well, just be glad I'm not anyone else," he answered with a smile, going for her lips.

_After just now, I'm glad you're not._ That scar, while painful to remember, felt reassuring, like it was a reminder that she was still alive. If she didn't have the one on her shoulder, she'd have an even deeper one on her heart, one that would have never healed.

She accepted the kiss with one of her own, and for a while, she was content with that. But then she broke away and looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she meant it. "I always thought I had my head on straight, that I knew what I wanted, but I couldn't even admit to myself that I was endangering someone I cared about."

It took her six years to finally figure that out, and for that she felt a little ashamed. How long would it have taken if things had been different? How long would it have been until her wake-up call was him lying dead before her? She tried not to think about it, instead thinking about how she was there in his arms. That helped.

Leon didn't answer her at first. Whether that meant apology accepted, or if he refused to acknowledge she needed to apologize, she didn't know, but the silence felt good. Peaceful. It was off her chest now. He knew what she felt, and the feeling was mutual.

"You didn't need to apologize," he finally said. Ada thought he looked a little sad, but it passed quickly. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too."

She had to suppress a snort of laughter. "Really? Sorry for what?"

"Well, I haven't been the most 'understanding' about us either. Maybe if I had said something, we'd be able to understand each other a little more."

"Maybe," she countered, "But which of us left the other shot and bleeding twice?"

"Exactly," he teased. "I should have told you to go a little easier on me."

She laughed, and they locked lips again. He had loosened up so much, it was amazing. Just talking to him now, he seemed more at peace, just like she was. In the past, what little conversation they had to share was never this relaxed, this understanding. Any humor was usually cynical or sarcastic. Maybe it was because he was just tired, but it sounded like he dropped his own burden as well.

She rolled back over with a contented sigh after breaking away, his taste still fresh on her lips. Maybe this was even as far as happiness. "What happens now?" she asked dreamily.

Leon let out a sigh of his own, then paused, crooning in her neck. "I'm not sure. You're still wanted, the BSAA's taken a hit, but we got Wesker. Maybe it'll be enough."

"Enough to confess to your boss that you're sleeping with an enemy spy?" she chuckled, partly from what he said, the other part the tickling on her neck. _Way to kill the mood._

"Hm, thought you went rogue." She felt him smiling against her neck. "And besides, you were instrumental in Wesker's takedown…maybe he'll let you work for us. I don't remember signing anything that prohibits interoffice romance."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. She still had her doubts that Chris and Jill took down Wesker that easily. He was a creature of habit, and one of his habits included coming back to life. He always had a back door, always a back up plan…she just didn't think he would drop all of that and get sloppy at the last second. There just wasn't enough to call this a victory yet.

"So let's say we got Wesker then," she said. "That leaves Crow still out there, and we have nothing on him."

"We'll find him eventually," he assured her. "Without Wesker, he's got to be feeling the net begin to tighten. And even if we don't, Spencer had a goldmine of information. Some of that has to help with cleaning up the rest of the terrorist cells out there. So if not Crow, we at least have that."

"Hm. What kind of information?" That piqued her curiosity a little bit. All the while the operation had been going on, she had been left twiddling her thumbs alone at the apartment. Then Leon came back, and well…

"Some files, Spencer's memoirs, stuff like that," he replied with a yawn. "Didn't get a chance to look at it yet…I think Hunnigan said she'd be looking at it tonight, but there has to be something in there we can use."

_ At least there's that. Maybe this whole thing wasn't a clusterfuck after all._

The digital clock on the nightstand shifted another digit, slowly creeping past midnight. It was hard to believe it had been only a couple of hours since they exchanged blows and ended up in the sack. Parts of her body were still sore–for more reason than one–but the pain in her ribs was beginning to subside a little. It had flared up several times, especially against the motions of his body, and now sat slowly burning like an ember in her side. But the rest of her minor injuries were fading fast.

She had almost drifted off again when a soft buzz sounded. Leon shifted, his warmth disappearing as he rolled over to reach the cuff of his pants. He pulled them closer to get the phone out of his pocket, then checked the number.

"Fischer," he muttered, then grunted and pulled his arm from around her. "Looks like I have to get going."

He tried to sit up, but she caught him by the elbow. "Thinking about just leaving me like a one night stand?" she purred in his ear. Despite her fatigue, she felt like she was getting her second wind…or in this case, more like third.

Leon smirked a little. "He's probably been waiting for a while. There wasn't much we could do on our end when we got the news about Jill. If he's calling now, that means we've got something to work with."

She noticed that sadness again when he mentioned Valentine. She had been a friend, and now she was gone. That she could accept, so she didn't want to press too hard. But then he smiled. "Unless you have a better offer?"

She smiled back. "I do."

Still holding his wrist, she pulled him back down to the mattress, pulling herself up at the same time. What little covering her slid off, baring her body as she climbed on top of him. "Fischer's waited this long. He can wait another twenty minutes for you to call back…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Leon showered and left. Ada dozed off for only a short while, and when she rolled over to check the clock when she woke up, it was past four in the morning. She was still tired, but a ravenous appetite was keeping her awake. The last meal she had seemed distant…and the recent physical exertion only sapped her of strength further.

She rolled out of bed, kicking away the tangled mess of sweaty sheets off of her body, then ran water for a shower. The hot soak felt good, washing away the sweat and passion that doused her skin, and it also served to wake her up a little more.

To avoid further dirtying what few clothes she had, she slipped on Leon's discarded button down for the time being. Most of the buttons were gone from when she yanked it open, but enough where still there to close the shirt and make herself at least semi-decent. He wasn't around anyway, but his musk was fresh on it, that pleasing clean-cut scent that matched his ideals.

She shook her damp hair a little with her fingers, then moved quietly to the kitchen. It was still in disarray after the tussle and what followed. Broken ceramic lay on the floor next to the counter, and other loose items and utensils were scattered about haphazardly. Dishes were still in the sink, sitting in soapy water after yesterday's meal, and the typical household mess only added to the clutter. Feeling a little guilty, she pushed the ceramic shards on the floor under the counter a little further with her foot, intending to clean things up after she had a little snack.

There wasn't anything elaborate in Leon's cupboards. He appeared to eat healthy enough, judging by the food; there was even a bowl of fruit sitting on the corner of the countertop. She helped herself to a banana, then pawed around a little bit, finding a box of pasta. The pots were under the sink, and soon, she had water boiling. Butter and noodles weren't much, but at least it would be something in her stomach.

As she dumped the pasta in, she considered how things had evolved in the short time period. They'd come to terms with their relationship, and that would make dealing with the fallout a little easier. Maybe. Leon would back her up, and she'd do what she could in the fight against Wesker and Crow.

A soft _thump_ sounded against the far wall, just barely audible over the sound of boiling water. Ada's ears perked up when she heard it again. It was too cool outside to be an air conditioner turning on, and too warm to be a furnace pipe banging. Leaving the pasta to boil, she took a step further, her body tense as she tried to listen further. A full minute of silence passed, and she exhaled.

_Must have been—_

-and the window exploded inward with a _crash_ as something flew through it, tethered by a cable. Instinct took over, and she hurled herself at it, recognizing a familiar shape protruding outward-

_-bambambambambambam-_

-gunfire erupted in a torrential chatter, deafening her. She was just barely able to knock the muzzle away before it ripped her to shreds. The submachine gun, or assault rifle, whatever it was, tore a line of holes in the wall as the gunner stumbled, still connected by the rappelling cable through the window-

_-bambambambambambam-_

-her momentum carried her right into him, and the impact knocked them both to the ground. The gun went off again, this time a longer burst as the gunner fell. Pain burned on her arm; muzzle flare as the next volley destroyed the TV and entertainment center.

The world was upside down, then slanted on an angle as Ada fought to get her bearings, only to almost get clocked against the head as the gun's barrel came around again. She threw her weight against the arm-

_-bambambambambambamCLICK-_

-it belched another salvo, then clicked dry. A fist lashed out and connected with her jaw. Ada tumbled back, landing flat on the floor, but reflexively kicked, catching him in the chest, and managed to scramble to her feet the same time as the gunner did.

He was fast. He dropped his weapon, and before she had time to react, he was on her. She blocked the punch to her head, the force behind it stronger than she expected. He was strong, too. Then came the next three punched. The second clipped her, while the third hit her square in the ribs.

Ada cried out as her injury erupted in agony; her vision went red, and her defense dropped completely. Something struck the side of her knee, and she went down hard, only adding to the already incredible pain. Her vision was clear enough to just see his leg draw back for a kick, and got her arms up just in time to block most of the savage blow to her body.

The pain went distant as her instincts kicked in further. _Ignore it Just ignore it. _Up on her feet, scrambling, she blocked another kick, pushing the pain beneath her, then threw a punch of her own. Blocked, but she managed to get another jab out, catching him in the throat. It just enough to stun him and catch her breath, but then he swung his fist again.

She stepped back, drawing her hands up into a fighting stance, but quickly ran out of space as she backed into the kitchen counter. The assassin struck again with two hard blows, both of which she parried. He countered, a glancing blow to the side of her head, and she stumbled right, grabbing the dish tray and swinging it wide. It clocked him on the side of the head, small ceramic plates and utensils sailing everywhere, clanging and shattering on the floor.

It didn't stop him long enough to press the attack further. Stooped over, he charged her, spearing her in the gut with his shoulder and sandwiched her against the counter. The pain threatened to overwhelm her, and Ada half coughed and half shrieked. The assassin hooked an arm under her thigh and lifted, shoving her haphazardly over the counter top, clearing it of any remaining clutter.

A fork pressed itself painfully between her shoulder blades, a broken glass opened a cut on her forearm, and several points beneath her back and bare legs were cushioned by jagged ceramic. The assassin didn't waste any time hopping the counter, then grabbed a parring knife from the knife block.

He brought it down right over her skull, and if she hadn't twitched when his weight fell on her, he would have buried it through her eye. The knife instead dug into the linoleum, snipping a few strands of her still-damp hair. Ada grabbed his arm for leverage, then drove her forehead into his nose, following it with a punch, giving her enough wiggle room to get a leg back and kick him off.

The headbutt was enough to draw two streams of blood from the attacker's nose, but it barely seemed to faze him. He threw another flurry of punches at her, which she blocked and countered, managing to trap him in an arm lock and then slam him against the refrigerator. He rebounded off, tripping against the counter, then lashed out again. The mostly intact plate he had in his hand shattered against her temple, sending white-hot stars across her eyes.

The pot sitting on the stove, by now a boiling, steaming froth, was just in reach. She snatched it by the handle and pitched it lopsidedly at him as he charged, her aim shaky from the hot embers of ceramic beneath her feet. He barely ducked, and the pot hit the floor, spilling its contents in a bath of steam. He speared her in the gut again, her vision going red, then slammed her into the cupboards.

As she reeled, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and drove her head face first into the half filled sink. She let out a grunt and inhaled a quantity of soapy water as the side of her head hit something hard, drawing more blood that mixed into the water that stung her eyes.

The assassin threw his weight down on her, twisting one arm behind her back until she was sure it was going to break. She thrashed, but was unable to lift her head from the water. Most of her breath was already gone, and what little she could hold was expelled in a bubbling scream as something hit her injured ribs.

One hand was free, blindly scrabbling against the smooth countertop for something, _anything_…and then her fingers hit something. She groped further. It felt solid. With the last of her clear thoughts before the panic of drowning settled in, she swung it behind her as hard as she could.

What turned out to be a coffee pot shattered against the man's skull, and the grip on her arm and hair vanished. Ada jerked her head up from the mess, sopping bangs marring her vision as she took a gasping breath. She caught a blurred glimpse of the assassin, keeled over with shards of glass sticking out of his temple, blood running down his face. She didn't give him a chance to recover, throwing herself blinding on him, both of their bodies clipping the edge of the counter.

Both of them fell to the ground, but Ada was quicker and was on top. She held her grip on his arm and managed to swing her leg over and get it over his neck. Her other leg scissored, crossing at the ankles, and formed a tight hold. A deadly twist on a classic wrestling position.

The assassin jerked as she flexed her legs as hard as she could, trying to pull his arm free while the other tried to earn some slack. Ada focused everything she had to simply hold the lock and continue to squeeze as hard as she could. He couldn't hit her as long as she held the arm lock, and he was too weak from the fight to pry away her legs with one hand, no matter how much he clawed at them.

His thrashing grew furious as the seconds ticked by. No matter how he twisted, she held herself firm. Then the gasping started.

_Just hold it…just hold it…_

She closed her eyes, ignoring the pain burning in all of her muscles. She could hold him until it was over. It didn't matter that it made her want to scream in agony as her abs contracted over her ribs. She just wished she could block out the sound.

_ Just go down already…_

Eventually, the gasping faded, having turned to a choking hack, and the thrashing slowly subsided to twitching.

_Sixty…fifty-nine…fifty-eight…_

Ada slowly counted a minute in her head from the time he went slack, then with an exhausted sigh, released her choke hold. Every inch of her was in agony, but her ribs easily dwarfed the comparatively minor dull throbs and sharp stings that dotted her body. She could still taste water and soap on her tongue, and every pant that tried to calm her body only brought more pain.

She forced herself to roll over, kicking the assassin's head off of her thigh and got to her hands and knees. There wasn't time to rest. A fully-automatic weapon was discharged, and she was lucky she didn't hear sirens yet. She needed to screw her head on straight, get real clothes on, then get the hell out of there. Leon's shirt was now tattered, one of the sleeves nearly torn off, and speckled with grime, water, and blood, both hers and his.

_Hope it wasn't a favorite…_she thought woozily, suppressing an inane grin.

Before that, though, she searched the assassin. Aside from an extra magazine for the rifle, there wasn't much. She almost began to despair when she found something hard and plastic in one of his pockets. A cell phone.

"Finally," she muttered. This was the break she had been waiting for. Quickly, she began to flip through the phone. No contacts, but there was a text message:

'_Take out Kennedy. Sweep for data. One hour.'_

A siren picked up outside, joined by another one. Her time was running out. She got to her feet, staggering slightly, and made it back to the bedroom. She stripped off the shirt and slipped into the pair of jeans and T-shirt Leon had picked up for her, all the while trying to decipher the message. She had to brush her feet clean of any bits of broken plate embedded in them before she tugged her shoes on.

_So they weren't after me, they were after Leon…but what data did that mean…?_

She swallowed a handful of painkillers before scooping up her weapon and Leon's keys, then stumbled out of the apartment while trying to mop the blood off of her face. He'd been taking cabs since his car had been shot to hell, which meant that it was still in the parking lot.

Unless the message was referring to what the BSAA recovered at Spencer's mansion. Leon had seen the data, and if Crow still had spies in the government, they would have known that. They were cleaning up and covering all the bases. Trying to get the data for themselves. Which meant—

"Shit," Ada muttered, able to get her pace to a slow jog as she headed down the buildings stairs.

They were going after Spencer's data, which meant they were targeting Ingrid Hunnigan.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Ada pulled away from Leon's apartment building just as the police arrived. She tried to drive as fast as she could without pealing the wrecked vehicles tires, but her foot did push a little harder on the accelerator as she actually _saw_ the flashing red and blue lights begin to glow around the corner. The lights lingered as she turned a corner, but the sirens cut off abruptly as she put distance between them. They were stopping at the apartment, and it sounded like none of them had seen her.

Between driving, trying to stop some of her bleeding cuts, and trying to decide what to do next, the car moved a little erratically. Everything still felt sore, her head throbbed, and the pain in her side made her want to bite her tongue in an effort to not scream.

The message on the phone had said one hour. She didn't know what that meant entirely, but guessed that it meant the assassin was to report in after an hour. That meant she had a little under an hour before they realized something was wrong. Of course, that was assuming the assassin struck when he got the message, and assuming that she was right in the first place. Too much assuming for her taste.

_Make sure Leon is safe,_ she prioritized. _They were targeting him, not you._

…except that Leon was at the GSA. She couldn't walk through the front door and expect to get the message that he was being targeted while being tackled by security, let alone catching a mole's bullet. She tried the number in her PDA she contacted him earlier with, but it went straight to an automated message saying that it was deactivated, likely after her breach in security.

_Think rationally._ Provided he was doing something at their headquarters, in a government office, chances were that he was probably safe. _Unless they're desperate. Then it doesn't matter where he is_.

Ada resisted the urge to act on passion, instead trying to think tactically. One lone government agent wasn't worth as much as that data. They'd realize the hit on him failed, but they would still have the data. Mission accomplished. She needed to get to Hunnigan before they did.

Except there was one stupid, fatal flaw with that plan. She had no idea where Leon's partner lived.

A phone booth was briefly illuminated in the one working headlight of Leon's Jeep, and she slammed on the brakes. Sure enough, when she got out and looked inside it, there was a phonebook. She quickly thumbed to the H section.

"Shit!" she hissed. There were a dozen 'Hunnigans' of various spellings, some with two n's, others with one. There were three Ingrids, two of which were married, one single.

She racked her memory one what she knew of Hunnigan. Other than being a person of low priority to the organization, she was mostly data acquisition and analysis. She couldn't recall if there was any type of spouse, or if she had been dating someone and later got married.

_Think…government agent…long nights, lots of classified information…probably doesn't get out much…_

It had to be the single Hunnigan. Ada memorized that address, then flipped to the back of the book, finding a few maps of the DC residential areas. It was hard to find out where she lived by squinting through dim light on a tiny map, but she managed to locate the address. After glancing to the street signs on the corner, she was able to get a general sense of where to go, and how long it was going to take to get there. There was only going to be one shot, with the clock ticking as it was. For all she knew, Hunnigan could already have a bullet in her head.

Back in the Jeep, Ada floored it, dialing the phone number with her other hand. The line continued to ring, then went to an answering machine. It was either a good sign or a very bad sign. Maybe Hunnigan had decided to review the data at the GSA office. If that was the case, she and the data were probably safe. If she was at home, and not picking up in the middle of the night…

The trip didn't take her long with no traffic and not stopping at any of the red lights. The edge of the city where Leon lived gradually turned suburban, rows of apartment buildings turning to gridded streets of houses with lawns. She let up on the gas as the correct street approached, not wanting to cause a commotion as she barreled down the darkened street.

The street was dark, save for the light that dotted it. It was a simple residential neighborhood, a little on the pricey side. Ada parked the car on the corner, checked the magazine of her gun, then moved the rest of the way on foot. Hunnigan lived close to the center of the block, so she had to hoof it the rest of the way.

As she stole along the shadows between streetlights, she kept her eyes up and alert, feeling very exposed. They might have someone watching the place with a night vision scope, and as soon as they saw her, things would get heated fast. With only her handgun against an unknown number of equally trained agents likely carrying better firepower, her chances weren't good.

Hunnigan's house came into view, a simple single story house with a small porch. The lawn was cut, and the outside looked pretty well-maintained for a data officer in the GSA. The entire house was dark, and looked untouched, and she began to dismay. It was the wrong house, had to be.

—except when she looked closer, the front door had a dark strip running along the frame. Then she realized that it wasn't a strip; the door was ajar.

She couldn't see anything from her current hiding spot, a low hedge on the neighbor's lawn. There were no cars parked out in front. No movement in the shadows she could see. Everything was still as peaceful as it should have been in the middle of the night. It didn't sit well with her, but lacking both the equipment for a better reconnaissance as well as the time, she pressed forward, drawing her Beretta and keeping it on the door.

Her senses tingled, dulled by the overdose of pills she took, and despite that, the pain in her ribs still throbbed persistently. Ada pushed the pain aside, staying low and ready as she darted to the door. The sliver that was open revealed nothing but complete blackness, but the lock and latch were still intact. Not the quota of the assassin she had dealt with. Gun up in both hands and ready to clear, she nudged the door open with the toe of her boot. It gave way almost silently, and she slipped inside.

At first, she was once again certain that she had the wrong house as she nudged the door back to its original position. All of the lights were off, the only sound being a faint clock ticking away in another room. Her eyes adjusted slowly, revealing a marginally decorated foyer, a door to her right giving a small glimpse of a refrigerator, and an open doorway to her left looking into a living room. The foyer itself stretched a little further back, towards another door that presumably led to the back yard.

She stepped further into the foyer, clearing the back door. It was still shut, and she could just make out a locking chain across it. The clock continued to tick-

—only Ada frowned, as there was something definitely audible beneath the sound of the ticking. Then, she heard it again. It was a low thump, followed by a rustling sound.

She stepped towards the living room, keeping her footsteps as silent as possible. Fortunately, the floor was carpeted, and on top of what felt like a harder stone surface. No floorboards creaked or groaned under her weight, but almost in the absolute stillness, even the sounds of her soles grazing the carpet sounded loud. She brushed up against the door, turned the corner—

—and nearly walked right into a figure standing just inside the living room. Ada nearly fired out of reflex, but instead stumbled back when she realized his back was turned to her. Her adrenaline spiked, and for a brief instant, she could see everything bright as day; most notably the gun in his hand.

She caught her breath once around the corner again. By some miracle, he hadn't heard her during her approach, and she had been almost close enough to reach out and touch him. Once she steadied herself, she was about to step back out and neutralize him, but then she heard voices, like the noise, barely audible.

"…either very hard, or very easy for you." It was male, speaking softly from what sounded like two rooms over. "Hard…by one slowly break your fingers…or give us access right now…way, a bullet in your skull."

There was a muffled grunt, followed by what sounded like a pained whimper. Ada set her teeth. She hadn't beaten the agents sent to kill Hunnigan, but she hadn't missed them either. It sounded like they caught her in the middle of a late night, but somehow, she managed to hide the information or lock it away. It sounded like they were trying to squeeze it out of her, and she was resisting.

A quiet _thump_ hit her ears, followed by another squeal, then more shuffling. She pressed her back against the wall, bringing both hands to her gun. There were at least two; the one she almost bumped into, and the one beating Hunnigan. But there was no way of knowing whether or not there was a third, or maybe even a fourth. It seemed like overkill for an agent like Hunnigan, but she had no way of knowing how they were operating. Hell, maybe there had been two more in the other room and she hadn't even noticed it because of the first one.

_Just going sit here and let them torture and execute her?_ She asked herself. _Or better yet, let the one on the other side of the wall suddenly walk in on you?_

She needed to move fast. There was no way she was going stay hidden in the same house as the assassins. Hunnigan wasn't going to last forever, and as soon as she gave in, she was dead.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, beneath a small table next to her. She recognized a long body, crouched to the floor, and a pair of pointed ears. It was a tabby cat. Ada stared back at its piercing glare, but the tabby drew a low hiss and held its ground. There was a shifting sound in the living room, a curious footfall in her direction—

—and she lunged around the corner, gun up, and put three quick shots into the chest of the first thug. The muzzle flare briefly illuminated the room, and another figure in the corner was visible, raising his own gun. She turned at the waist, the pain in her ribs numb, and didn't stop her charge to the only other door in the room. Two more rounds discharged from her gun off as he fired, but his shot went over her shoulder. He dropped as they exited his back, and Ada braced herself as she lowered her shoulder—

—_crash_. She was through the door. Unfamiliar surroundings, but only one hostile, stooping over a figure on the floor. He was already turning towards her, but she aimed down the sights even as she stumbled from the impact. He caught two rounds in the chest and fell over dead.

The momentum from her charge was almost enough to throw her over the twin-sized bed that she ran into, and she was just able to maintain her footing to sweep her gun across the dark room. No one but her was standing. The pain returned, and she let out a low growl, one hand reflexively twitching to nurse the spot on her side.

She went back to check the first two bodies in the living room to make sure they were dead, then the third in the bedroom before she examined Hunnigan. Her wrists, ankles, and mouth were taped over, but other than a black eye, and a trickle of blood from her nose, she was alert and conscious. Her brunette hair was done up in a scrunchy, and she was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a bulky T-shirt. A pair of reading glasses lay smashed and twisted a few feet away. From a spilled cup of coffee on the desk next to a laptop, it looked like she was either planning or in the middle of an all-nighter when the assassins attacked.

When Ada drew close, she squinted, and then her eyes went wide when she recognized her.

"Were there only three?" Ada said tersely, trying to watch all of her blindspots. There was a window, blinds pulled, a door that probably led to a closet, then the way back to the living room. Hunnigan didn't answer, and she impatiently shook her shoulder. "You saw three, right?"

She nodded with a muffled _mm-hmm,_ and Ada relaxed a hair. That didn't mean there wasn't a fourth one lurking around, but it sounded like she had gotten them all. After listening for a minute, over the noises Hunnigan was making, she didn't hear anything, but to be safe, she gave the house one last sweep, then checked the pockets of the corpses.

The first two had pre-paid cell phones that looked like they hadn't been used. No recent calls or texts showed up when she searched them. As she checked the third in the bedroom, Hunnigan squirmed next to her, letting out a hopeful sound.

"Sorry sweetheart," she said, rummaging. "I can't untie you, and the police will be here shortly. You'll just have to sit and be quiet for now."

Hunnigan let out a frustrated groan and kicked the side of her desk with her bound feet. Ada ignored her.

The third thug had a better phone; similar to her own PDA, in fact. Anxiously, she checked it, and sure enough, the text she recovered from the first assassin at Leon's was sitting in the outbox.

Satisfied, she opened the back, dumped the battery, and pulled out the SIM card. The tiny computer chip was the gem she had been searching through ever since the hunt for Crow and Wesker began. If it wasn't one of them directly that ordered the assassins, it had to be someone higher up on the ladder, and the chip would point her straight to them.

The sound of police sirens began to rise for the second time. The local cops were certainly earning their stripes tonight. A total of four bodies in two separate places, and it hadn't even been an hour.

She thought about taking Hunnigan's laptop for the data, but she would be dealing with the same issue the assassins couldn't breach. Plus, that would only make her a bigger target for Crow if she had Spencer's data. It was better left in the hands of the BSAA and the GSA. She didn't have any use for it. Not anymore.

"Hey," she said to Hunnigan, still fruitlessly trying to get herself free. "Once the cops get here, you need to tell Leon that he's been targeted. They were waiting for him at his apartment. Understand? They're after the data and anyone close to it. They still have someone inside the agency."

She wanted to add on a 'tell him I'm alright,' but Leon would figure that out when Hunnigan warned him. It also would have been awkward, and she didn't want to incriminate Leon with the fact that they were in a relationship.

Obviously confused, Hunnigan stared back at her for a moment, then blinked and nodded tentatively.

Ada turned and ran as fast as her ribs would allow back to the Jeep on the corner and disappeared before the police arrived. It was time to go on the offensive; Crow had sent his dogs out to take Leon out. That meant they were getting closer, or at least that they had drawn enough attention that he needed to take action.

Only now he had gotten sloppy. All she had to do was follow the address on the dog's leash back to its master.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Okay Hunnigan," Fischer said tiredly, rubbing at the circles under his eyes. "I need to hear it from the top. What happened?"

Leon, Fischer, and Hunnigan sat in the GSA's infirmary after the physician had given her a once over. She was visibly shaken up, but other than a few bumps and bruises, a headache, and a sore nose, she was fine. She sat on the edge of a hospital bed sipping at some old coffee, Leon and Fischer in front of her on either side, still dressed in her pajamas.

She winced as she shifted an ice pack against her temple. "Well, between when I clocked out and said good-night sir, then went home, not much happened. I didn't pick up on anyone following me or anything suspicious when I got home. I accessed a copy of some of the information the BSAA pulled from Romania, then went to put on a second pot of coffee. That's when they jumped me."

Leon felt a cold wave run down his spine. He could almost see it: Hunnigan, dressed for bed, getting ready for a long night and walking back to her room when the men with guns kicked down her door. It was almost chilling when he thought how much she reminded him of a civilian, and not a government agent. All of them went through basic training, but she always seemed small and frail, more fit behind a desk than active service.

She shook her head slowly, almost like she was amazed at what she was saying. "I didn't even hear them get in. The next thing I know, I'm staring at one of them in my front hall, and he pulls a gun on me."

"What did you do?" Leon asked.

"Instinct kind of took over, I guess," she said with a shrug. "It was dark, and I don't think he expected me to go at him. I managed to knock him over, then got to my room and shut my computer. That logged me off, so they couldn't access the data without knowing my password. At least for the time being, that was. If they had a few hours, they'd be able to crack it."

"What did they do after they subdued you?" Fischer asked patiently. "Did they get a look at any of the information before you locked them out?"

Leon thought it was a little crass of him to ask her that instead of questioning her about her safety or state of mind, but at the same time, he understood his approach. There was a lot of useful information from Spencer that terrorists didn't need to see, let alone ones working for Wesker and Crow. His stomach did a turn when she continued.

"No sir. They tried to get back on, but by then it was too late, so they...started to interrogate me." She pursed her lips together as she stared straight ahead, between the two of them. "One of them said he was going to break my fingers one by one if I didn't cooperate. I knew he was going to kill me anyway, so I didn't say anything. The longer I held out, the longer I'd stay alive. I just hoped…well, then _she_ showed up."

Leon's heart sank. He knew exactly who she was talking about…only he left Ada in his apartment. Not only had she gone out, but she saved Hunnigan, killing three assassins in the process, conveniently knowing they were going to attack her. Something wasn't right. There was no way that it had all worked out like that by chance, and after what they shared, that doubt began to creep back into his feelings. All the same, he kept his expression stoic in front of Fischer.

"Wong," Fischer clarified, and Hunnigan nodded. "How did she know you had access to the data?"

She shrugged. "I'm a data officer, so anyone who knows my position here could make an educated guess. There's no way she could know for certain, because I didn't tell anyone else I'd be reviewing it tonight. But the fact is she saved my life. She took down all three of them, then went for the computer. Someone in the neighborhood must have heard the shots though, because she had high-tailed it out just before the police showed up. She never got past the lock on my computer."

Leon thought it was odd that she blushed a little before taking another sip of coffee, avoiding both of their looks, especially Fischer. She stole a glance at him, then looked away quickly. She looked…nervous?

_I'd be nervous if I were her too. Probably worried that more people would ambush her._

"Well, then I guess we're fortunate she didn't get a hold of it either," Fischer said, getting up and putting his suit coat back on. "But it does seem to confirm that Wong has her own agenda in this. Either that, or she's looking for compensation, maybe something to barter with. I'm putting a lock on that information; it's not going to leave the GSA until this is over." He placed a comforting hand on Hunnigan's shoulder. "I'm glad you're okay, Agent Hunnigan. You did well tonight."

She turned a deeper shade of pink despite her misery and at least smiled. "Thank you sir. I'm just glad I was that lucky."

Fischer left, bidding both of them goodbye. Leon stood to stretch. The sun had since come up, and he was starting to feel the lack of sleep, but it looked like he'd be drinking coffee and pulling another long day, maybe spaced with a nap.

"You know, I don't make it a habit to lie to one of my bosses," Hunnigan suddenly said after the sound of Fischer's footsteps faded. "Especially when I get tied up and beat up beforehand."

He pursed his lips together as he faced her, unsure of what to say. So he just didn't imagine that look on her face earlier. "I thought you might be hiding something. You've got a pretty noticeable tell."

"Well, that makes two of us," she replied crossly, then looked at him. "Ada never tried to access my computer. She didn't press me for information, and she didn't offer to even help me. She had it all in front of her to take, but she didn't. Instead, she told me to warn you."

"Warn me?" he repeated.

"They're targeting you too, Leon!" she said exasperatedly. "They're trying to get that data, and kill anyone that's already seen it. Christ, you have no idea how long I've been needing to tell you that and worried you'd take a bullet before I could."

His brow furrowed as he took that in. Ada wanted to warn him that he was being targeted, and all because of the data. He wasn't the only one. Fischer had seen it, and so had a dozen people in the GSA and BSAA.

"We need to tell Fischer," he said, starting for the door. "He's at risk too, and—"

"I already told him," Hunnigan said, waving her hand dismissively. "Before you joined us just now. He's got a tighter security detail, and so do the techs that were archiving the data. As long as we have the only copy, they should be safe. But that's not the point. She said they were waiting at your place."

Leon froze. If they were waiting at his apartment…then Ada was in danger! But his rational mind kicked in. If Ada told Hunnigan to warn him, then that meant she had escaped, or dealt with them.

_But at what cost? She was already injured._ And why had she gone to Hunnigan's?

Hunnigan was peering at him through squinted eyes, and he realized he'd gone silent while trying to imagine what happened to Ada. She looked so much older and more mature without her wireframes, but he could see the gears turning in her head. She knew that something wasn't quite adding up. No, she already knew, otherwise she wouldn't have remarked about him being easy to read.

"So are you saying that I'm going to be walking home to an assassin's corpse?" he asked, trying to think of a way to lead her away from the subject.

"Wouldn't be surprised if the DC police call in the next few minutes, judging by how urgently she told me to warn you," she replied cynically, "but it still doesn't make sense. Why was she at your place?"

Leon sighed hard, then rubbed his face. He was glad that Fischer had left. If his boss heard this, he was done. "Because that's where she was hiding this whole time," he said quietly. He couldn't think of way to lie around it, at least not with anything that Hunnigan would buy.

Hunnigan's jaw dropped, and for a while, she just gaped at him. "What?" Clearly, she didn't his answer.

"Ever since I met her in Atlantic City, she's been hiding out there," he explained quickly. "I couldn't bring her in because we were ambushed at the club. Someone was tracking her through the GSA. She told me herself, and the last time we had her in custody, they tried to kill her. So I lied about her getting away and kept quiet."

"Even after the operation in Romania went to hell?" she almost yelled, then winced, and lowered her voice when she realized it. "Even after Agent Valentine is still missing? She could have been playing you from the start! I know you have feelings for her, but that makes you easier to use!"

"Ada wouldn't do that!" Leon snapped. "Besides, Wesker's presence in Romania caught her off guard too, and she has nothing to gain by betraying us."

"Maybe not her, but maybe whoever's paying her does," Hunnigan retorted. "Leon…this is grounds for treason if Fischer gets wind of this. As in, you go to federal prison for the rest of your life."

"I _know_," he growled through his teeth, running his hands through his bangs in frustration with a clawed hand. "I'm the one who's taking the risk here, but we _need_ Ada for this, and she needs us. We have a common enemy, and we have a better chance of taking them down with her help than without it, and no one but me will admit it!"

Silence fell between the two of them, then stretched. Hunnigan stared into her half empty cup. Leon opted to not even face her. His face felt hot, and there was a pit in his stomach. If she had any shred of common sense, she would tell Fischer what he'd been doing behind his back. His career was as good as over. It wasn't the same as when she picked up on his feelings for her. He was actively helping someone who was wanted by the government.

_A terrorist._

"You going to turn me in?" he asked softly. At first, he wondered if she was hesitating in fear of retaliation from him, but he would never hurt Hunnigan, even if she landed him in prison.

She snorted. "I told you before, when it comes to you and her, it's not my place. It goes against my better judgment, but my trust in you is stronger. And besides…"

She trailed off, and Leon turned around to face her, barely able to believe what she just said. "Besides…?"

"The reason I'm alive right now is because of her," she finished, "and after what you told me, I know that she didn't show up out of malice, or some hidden agenda. She knew that they were going to go for the data, and knew to come for me. Whether she came to deliberately protect me, or the data…well, that's something you'll have to ask her yourself. Either way, she helped us. Just like you said she would."

Leon nodded and smiled softly. For as much as he underestimated her, he always admired her mind. It worked on the same level as his, and while there was always that official mask that never wavered against his flirtation, she always saw the reason behind emotions and feelings, especially his with Ada.

He extended his hand. "Thanks Hunnigan."

She took it and smiled back. "No problem. I promised that I wouldn't tell Fischer anything about your feelings for her, and I intend to keep it that way. Besides, now that I'm withholding information from him too, I'm guilty of treason too."

He laughed tiredly. The last twelve hours had been an absolute rollercoaster. He thought he'd been betrayed, struck out against the woman he loved, and then had sex with her minutes later. He had gotten no sleep, one of his best friends was nearly killed, and now they were effectively co-conspirators behind the GSA's back. Life was never easy.

On top of it all, Ada was missing, possibly injured further, and Leon genuinely feared for her. Would she try to contact him again? Wesker and Crow were still watching the GSA closely. Her one safe port in the storm had been ravaged, so where else could she go? The thought of her being on the run, possibly being trailed by assassins made him sick. There was no way of knowing what she met with after fleeing Hunnigan's house.

_Remember who you're talking about_, he reminded himself. _She's not a scared little girl. She knows how to look after herself._

Knowing that didn't make it any easier.

"What did Ada do after?" he asked. "After she saved you and before the cops showed up? Anything that might have indicated where she went or what she was going to do?"

"She checked them for something, but I didn't see her take anything…" she paused for a minute. "Wait, no, she did. It was dark, but I saw her take one of their cell phones…"

"So?" Leon shrugged.

Hunnigan brought a finger to her lip and chewed on the nail, thinking hard for a second, and then her face lit up. "If you have spies waiting for orders, you have to be able to contact them somehow. Especially if they have a kill order standing by. Ugh, of course! With a phone…she pulled the SIM card!"

"Hunnigan, what—" he began, but she interrupted him.

"Leon, she's going after whoever sent those men to grab the data and kill you," she said quickly. "If she has a SIM card that that person called, she has the number, and knowing Ada Wong, it probably won't take her long to trace it."

"But," he stammered, "What about us, or the BSAA? We could back her up if she has a location. She wouldn't just run off on a suicide mission!"

Hunnigan spread her arms and shrugged. "I don't know, Leon. If she contacts us, she could risk tipping off Wesker if he still has a presence in here. At least, that's what I would worry about if I were her. And that means we have to keep this between us until…or if, she does."

Leon slumped. If Hunnigan was right, then Ada wasn't on the run; she was diving headfirst into battle and going straight for the throat. He knew she wasn't reckless, but she was independent, and extremely careful. If there was a chance that contacting him would compromise her, she wouldn't.

Being careful in this case was almost being stupid.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The Global Pharmaceutics Consortium was holding a conference in Rome, and even though this was Excella's homeland, she was overburdened with her current projects in the wake of Albert's disappearance to attend personally. Tricell sent a small delegation of her subordinates instead while she worked to unravel the tangled mess that occurred overnight. Crow found himself having to tag along, though he preferred to stay quiet and observe the convention as it unfolded before him than actively participate.

The conference was stretched over three days, this being the second day of various lectures, presentations and dinners all given in the ballrooms at the St. Regis hotel. Crow personally found it all to be dreadfully boring. Despite the luxurious settings of the five-star hotel, most of it was spent endlessly listening and waiting. Perhaps Wesker might have taken a better interest in it, if he were still alive and not been a wanted man. Excella certainly would have fit right in. The talks ranged from new ways to implement medicine to the latest in bioengineering, filled with all sorts of science he didn't even bother to understand.

It had been Excella's request that he join the delegation, however, one given over dinner. He simply couldn't turn that down. At least there was a positive side to it: while she could review the notes taken by her subordinates, he could be there to personally 'brief her' on the entire conference once it was over. There were other things for him to manage as well, such as Tricell's security force, which was overseeing a majority of the security for the conference.

Also weighing heavily on his mind was the kill order he sent the previous day. His men were late in reporting to him, and he was expecting that _something_ had gone wrong, though he couldn't guess what. Since he was so busy filing the spot on the delegation, there was no way to get wind of anything happening in America. The longer the silence in communication, the more it felt off. They had been given free reign in their planning and methods, but this was…_unprofessional._ And unnaturally so, given that his men were remnants of the organization.

As if it was reading his thoughts, his PDA suddenly chimed quietly with a buzz inside his coat pocket. He was relieved to see the familiar number on the screen. At least an update was better than nothing, regardless of the news, though he would wait to exercise that particular judgment and braced himself for the worst.

He brought it to his ear, turning away from the presentation, as to not disturb the Tricell staff he was seated with. "Report," he demanded quietly through gritted teeth. "I expected to hear from you sooner."

Strangely, the other end of the line was quiet, and he thought for a second that the call had dropped. But then shock, and somewhat of a chill ran down his spine when a familiar purr sounded in his ear.

"_Hello, James._"

Suddenly, the worst he imagined didn't seem so bad…

Crow tried not to swallow just too hard, but there was no hiding the pause in his reply as he gulped. "Hello Ada. This is…certainly a surprise, though I must say it is delightful to hear your voice again. I didn't expect to be hearing from you, of all people."

"_Your men are dead,_" she said coldly, ignoring his charm. "_If you have any more targeting the BSAA's data, they're not going to get it without drawing a lot of attention. The government has it locked away._"

He pursed his lips together, gut clenching in anger. This was outside the scope of his projections. Ada shouldn't have been a factor with the BSAA. She hadn't mentioned how she knew what she did, but she clearly had a hand in what happened. After all, she had acquired his number, and that probably meant she had been the one that eliminated the Tricell assassins.

…but somehow, no matter how angry he felt or what dread he felt creeping up the back of his neck, he couldn't block the admiration for her. She was so cunning, so adaptable. What he wouldn't give to have her at his side…

"I guess I have you to thank for eliminating them," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral and casual. "Disappointing. You're calling to gloat then?"

"_No, I'm calling to tell you that I'm going to kill you._"

The way she said it was so casual, nonchalant, but it was spiced with a sense of hatred. It reminded him of Wesker: bland and colorless, but cold. He felt a cool sweat start to bead beneath his bangs. It shouldn't have come as a surprise that Ada wanted him dead, but hearing it from her directly was a lot more terrifying than he thought it would be, especially given the surprise of her call.

But threats were only words. He had money, information, and all of Tricell's support backing him; the equivalent of a nation and an army. He had the advantage. It didn't matter what she said. She couldn't find him, and she was just one woman against an army. The odds were tipped in his favor, and the outcome was inevitable.

He forced a chuckle. "Please, Ada, there's no need to be violent. Business is business, after all. I wish you wouldn't take it so personally, especially after you insist on being so meddlesome."

"_You forget that I'm not part of your _business _anymore, Crow,_" she replied icily. "_What I do meets my own needs._"

"Very well then," he snorted. "Is there anything else you wish to say? I'd rather not listen to someone tell me how much they hate me, even if it is from a woman as lovely as you."

"_No,_" she sighed lazily, "_I'm just thinking about how I'm going to kill you without alerting all those people sitting around you._"

The chill moved from his spine and plummeted straight into his gut like a sack of ice. _She knew where he was_!

Crow licked his lips, trying to look unfazed, but his face grew hot. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Her chuckle was rich and sultry. "_It wasn't hard to trace your number from your thug's phones, even if it only did point me towards Europe. I figured you'd go for something related to pharmaceutics, and here you are._"

He scanned the crowd, still seated and watching the presenter page slide through slide of a powerpoint. The lecture continued normally. There were plenty of people with dates and significant others. He had taken the time to admire many of the women since the conference started, but none of them were Ada Wong, and none of them were acting suspicious. But the ultimate truth was that she had more than just his number. She wouldn't call without confidence…unless she was watching him though a rifle scope, with her finger on the trigger, but then he remembered that there weren't any windows in the ballroom.

Or _was_ she just bluffing? The uncertainty began to rise. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling very hot in his black Armani suit.

"_I'd be careful Crow,_" she chimed in his ear. "_You can alert security that there's an assassin afoot, but that means plenty of attention on you. We wouldn't want any pictures of you showing up where the BSAA can see them, would we?_"

She was right, of course. If a panic started at the conference, one that he started no less, he would draw too much attention to himself. That could lead the BSAA straight to Excella and Tricell, and he would be finished…assuming of course, that Ada didn't know that already and chose not to reveal that she did.

At least he could defend himself…except that he suddenly remembered his revolver was in his suite. Even though Tricell's private army was supplying most of the security forces, Crow would rather not be the focus as someone above security if part of the other forces caught him wearing a firearm. Now he was kicking himself for being too careless.

_Don't panic,_ he tried to think coolly. _Arm yourself, then call for extraction. She's playing you, trying to goad you into something stupid. Keep her distracted. She hasn't struck yet because you're surrounded by staff and guards._

That seemed like a reasonable could regroup, call for backup, and then escape in a matter of minutes with a simple call from his hotel room phone.

He pushed his chair out from the table he was seated at, keeping his PDA to his ear. No one paid him much mind; other conference goers had left due to calls, and more than once, cell phones had disrupted a presentation. It almost seemed to be expected. The Tricell associates seated at his table didn't even seem to notice he was leaving.

"_Do you remember our first face-to-face talk?_" she said idly. "_Back then, I was protecting you from an assassin that was picking off the organization one by one. Seeing as how you and Wesker made it out of that tight spot, I think you had something to do with it, but I digress. You were expressing your pride as a physicist._"

"Yes, what of it?" he asked impatiently, looking over his shoulder, specifically at exits and doorways. He couldn't make out anyone following him. There were only the other conference goers and hotel staff, as well as the occasional wealthy tourist staying at the St. Regis. He also tried to stay as far away from windows as he could, in case she _was_ looking through a rifle scope.

"_You ignored a very simple little fact for being such an acclaimed physicist, Crow: initial conditions._"

"Really, initial conditions?"

"_You screwed up from the start, and it all went downhill from there. How many times could you have had me killed between Spain and sending me after Donovan? I would have never seen it coming. But it was obvious why you didn't. It was all over your face when we met, and it's always been in your voice when we've talked._ _You just couldn't let me go._"

"I admit, I rather detested the idea of putting you down like some mad pet," Crow admitted tightly. As much as he believed that earlier, he was quickly realizing his mistake. Unchecked, she had been the source of all his problems. "I would have preferred that you allied with me. A woman of your caliber, Ada Wong, is a rare find."

"_Thank you for the compliment,_" she purred pleasingly.

He tried not to picture Excella sneering at him and saying 'I told you so'. She was right, as Wesker had been before her. As an unmarked variable, Ada was able to cause a surprising amount of chaos in a relatively short time. One little butterfly flapped its wings and caused a hurricane, one that was quickly forming around him. He'd been stupid to try and think he could control that force and collect it for his own use later.

"I mean every word of it," he said sincerely. "As I mean every word of my offer to join me. You're a sensible woman, Ada. Wealth and power at your fingertips, and you know I can be pleasurable company."

The last hallway to his room was empty, void of anyone save for a lone maid at the far end. She gave him a peculiar look as he glanced behind himself, the phone still glued to his ear with a terse look on his face, but didn't pay any further attention.

"_You flatter too much, Crow,_" she said, sounding amused. "_Especially with women_. _We're not just toys, you know. It'll be your downfall._"

"Let's hope not."

He dug into his suit pocket and procured the keycard to his room, then stabbed it into the receiver, missing the first time in haste. The suite was comprised of a living room, a bedroom, a small office, and a master bathroom. He shut the door behind him, and made straight for the office. He could already see his Korth revolver sitting on the corner of the desk where he had laid it last night before turning in, and a sense of relief was already beginning to replace the initial panic.

"Besides, Ada," he said, moving towards the desk, "Despite all my flattery, do you really think you could find it in your heart to kill me?"

_Click._

He froze as he heard the metallic sound. A cold circle of metal pressed against the base of his skull hard enough to tilt his head forward.

"Oh, I believe I could."

Her sultry purr was right behind him, so close that he felt warm, scented breath against his ear.

The relief vanished, and genuine panic began to rise as he realized just how badly he had underestimated her.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Ada kept the muzzle of her Beretta PX4 pressed firmly against the nape of Crow's neck, feeling very satisfied with how he walked right to her. She slipped her PDA into her vest pocket, plucked his from his hand, still pressed against his ear. He seemed to have frozen solid, but twitched when she tossed the device across the room, a panel on the back of it breaking off as it bounced clattered against hardwood floor.

_Funny how after all this time, all it took was a little phone call._

She grabbed him by the scruff of his collar, then spun him around to face her. If he had shown any fear while he was turned away, he had quickly wiped it away. He smirked back at her, looking exactly like she imagined whenever she heard his snide, pompous accent. It was a little disappointing that his look didn't change when she moved the muzzle to the underside of his jaw, not being gentle about it at all, but she wasn't going to get ungrateful now.

"Very impressive," he said approvingly. "You really had me there."

"I really have you _now_," she corrected, meeting his grin with a smirk of her own. She drew back her gun and cracked the frame across his temple.

Crow grunted and slumped against the desk, but she grabbed him by the collar again and hauled him up, replacing the muzzle back against his jaw. He winced, holding the spot she struck, which was now running with blood. That seem to instigate a more appropriate reaction, she noted with appreciation as he looked at the blood on his fingers, then glared at her.

"That was uncalled for," he said through his teeth. "Not to mention very rude."

"I could do worse," she threatened. After how good it felt, she considered hitting him again. "Just give me a reason to."

She expected a comeback, but instead, he stayed silent, at least initially. He met her eyes, but then glanced down, and she felt that invasive stare of his wash down her body. Normally, she was used to the visual undressing, but coming from him, it felt colder.

"A little disappointing, I'm afraid," he said, remarking at her clothes. "Not even red."

She had picked up a set of black fatigues at an army thrift store, along with a vest over a black shirt. It had been difficult on such short notice, and in a foreign country, but she still knew a few tricks about procuring equipment. In addition to her standard Beretta, she had two extra sidearms, plus some armor inserts for her vest, and even a few hand grenades. The armor was a little comforting to have against her chest, but that didn't keep the cold thought out of her mind:

It was possible this was going to be a one way trip. But first…

"Where's Wesker?" she demanded, ignoring his comment.

Crow snorted, looking at her like she had gone crazy. "Wesker's dead, Ada, as I'm sure you already know. The BSAA saw to that in Romania."

"Wesker died and came back once before," she replied. "I don't think he would let death stop him this time, either. You're going to tell me where he is, and then you're going to tell me who you're working with."

Crow grinned again. "Feeling second thoughts about killing me outright as you just said mere minutes ago?"

She pressed the gun a little harder against his jaw, bringing her face close to his. "I didn't figure you were a man who was in a hurry to die, Crow," she hissed.

"Or maybe it's because I'm more use to you alive than dead?" he mused, not really meeting her gaze, like he was thinking of something else. "Maybe I do know where Wesker is, and what he has planned. I certainly know why I happen to be here at this conference, though I doubt you do."

She bared her teeth, partly in frustration, partly out of disgust. She didn't expect him to have this much spine.

"Maybe I should just kill you now then," she threatened, bringing the hammer back on her gun. "Save myself the time and start working on Wesker instead."

"Oh, please do try," Crow said. His eyes glinted with a hidden mischief. "We are in the middle of a booked hotel, alone together at the moment. While this somewhat fulfills one of my fantasies, the more pertinent thing to notice is that we are surrounded by a heavily armed security force. Shoot me, you alert them all, and the chances of your death are guaranteed."

She still held him tightly by the collar, and he wouldn't dare make a move with a cocked gun in his face, but she felt his body tense. Other than his face, name, and personality, she didn't know enough about Crow to get a sense for how he could fight. Suddenly, confronting him without back up seemed a little stupider than she thought it would.

Her options were limited, and he wasn't lying. She could kill him, but then she would have to high-tail it out, and getting in the way she did had been difficult enough. She did some quick recon earlier, and she knew that she didn't have the ammo or the firepower to shoot her way out directly, either.

Something wasn't right. He kept avoiding her questions and taking her hits, egging her on and trying to make he do something stupid, which he knew she wouldn't do, which meant—

—he was buying time.

A tapping knock sounded at the door. "_Signore Crow? Is everything alright?_"

Her head twitched in the direction of the voice at the door, her eyes glancing away for only a brief instant, but it was enough. Crow lurched forward and shoved the gun away. At the same time, he butted her in the head, the impact sending spots to her eyes.

The gun went off, impossibly loud in the small room, and he was on her, pushing her back until they slammed against the wall. Ada recovered from the surprise, but her gun slipped from her grasp.

He had the element of surprise, but that was it. He held her tightly by the arms, but she broke the hold, snapping a punch to his jaw, which crumpled him instantly. She followed up with the instep of her combat boot across his face for good measure, then made a grab for her gun, but he caught her ankle with a blind kick, dropping her to a knee before she got to it. It was just enough for him to get back on her, tackling her to the floor.

Again, it didn't take much to shrug him off, and this time she booted him against the desk, giving her enough time to retrieve her weapon. But by then, the damage was already done.

"You didn't think that my associates wouldn't notice my absence, would you?" he grunted with a pained laugh. "I never thought you'd develop a case of tunnel vision. So much for slipping out unnoticed."

"Weaseley little _shit,_" she swore, training the gun on him. She heard the footsteps in the hall. A lot of them.

"Go ahead," he dared, laughing and coughing, "Pull the trigger, Ada. Then what? Exit through the window? I don't see you with your handy little grappling hook, and it's a considerable fall. Going to escape on broken legs?"

It was like he set a trap without even trying. She had come with the intent to get the last pieces of the puzzle, then kill him and be done with it. Now, over a matter of minutes, he was able to manipulate and trick her right into a corner. Yes, she could still blow his head off, but the victory would be short lived when the security forces cut her down. The worst part was that she dove headlong into it and didn't even think it could happen. Overconfident.

The footsteps stopped at the door, and immediately, something started to pound against it. She had seconds…

_Give them a reason not to shoot you_.

She smirked through her tussled bangs, then stooped over, grabbing him by the knot of the tie. "Get up!"

He seemed perplexed, and she took small satisfaction that this was something he didn't think of. He grunted as she yanked him up, and once he was on his feet, she wrapped her arm around his neck and put him in a headlock, just as a burst of gunfire tore through the door lock.

Six men swept in, some wearing suits and ties, others wearing uniforms and armor. All of them carried guns. They moved in on her fast, professionally, taking up firing positions, but stopped when they sighted her holding Crow at the neck in front of her, a gun to his temple.

That didn't stop them from leveling their weapons at them, much to Crow's displeasure.

"You _idiots_!" he roared, "Don't point those at me!"

With him between her and the gun muzzles, she had to peer over her wrist and Crow's shoulder to see the guards. She was pressed close against him, her face in the crook of his neck. It was enough to get a whiff of his cologne. It wasn't a bad smell; in fact, it made him smell very attractive. It was knowing who it was on that made her sick.

Her plan worked, and at least she was staying alive a few seconds longer than the alternative; they didn't open fire on sight. Some of the guards even stepped back a little and turned their guns away at Crow's strangled shriek.

_Test the water further._

"Back off," she growled to them, taking a few awkward steps forward. Crow was resisting to some degree, but she tightened her choke hold and he quickly complied with a gasp and went still in her arms.

While some of the guards complied with Crow's screech, others still had guns on them, carefully watching for a clear shot. She dragged him forward, and they backed away, but tracked her every movement. From the office to the suite's living room, then to the door to the hallway, she kept Crow between her body and their guns, her weapon pressed against his head and her finger tight on the trigger.

"Intending to drag me out the front door, Ada?" Crow rasped. The guards filed out of the room behind her, following her into the hall, but always giving her that respectable distance. Despicable as he was, it seemed they couldn't afford to spill his blood. At least this quickly. "Then what?"

"I haven't thought that far ahead," she admitted tersely in his ear. "But the way I see it, as long as I have you out in front, I have the advantage."

"So adaptable."

"_Shut up._"

She continued to back down the hallway, starting to round the corner to the stairs. It was still just the six of them, but sooner or later she'd be dealing with an army—

—something grabbed her wrist, turning the gun away from Crow's head. It went off, and he reflexively jerked back, slamming the back of his head into her nose, her eyes watering.

He slipped from her grasp, but Ada was too preoccupied with what still had her wrist: it was another guard. He'd been waiting around the corner and managed to surprise her. She reacted quickly, even with her blurred vision; a short jab to his throat with her free hand, which made him drop her wrist, and she followed up by thrusting her knee into his skull. By then the other guards had lined up a shot and opened fire even before he dropped to the ground.

The shots went wild, and as Ada threw herself into a doorway to avoid the salvo, she saw Crow scampering down the hall in a hunched run. She lifted her gun and fired, but cramped under cover and at a bad angle, she missed three shots. The second shot landed close, tearing a hole in the next to him and showering him with bits of plaster, but he blew through the stairwell unscathed.

_Goddammit!_

A bullet _zinged_ past her ear, splintering the doorway and sending hot splinters into her ear. Ada dropped to a crouch, drawing another one of her guns and stuck them around the corner, pulling the triggers blindly. After half a dozen rounds, she leaned out and kept firing. She wasn't concerned with the fact that she wasn't hitting anything.. She just needed to keep slinging lead at them to keep them down as she backed down the hall.

Both of her weapons clicked empty before she made it, and the return fire came immediately. Now that Crow wasn't downrange, the shots were a lot closer. Something hit her chest hard, enough to flare up the phantom pain in her ribs. She stumbled back against into a doorway for cover, a mushroomed bullet protruding from her vest.

Trying to shake off that chilling feeling of getting shot and surviving, she slammed another clip home in her Beretta and fired around the corner to suppress them. Instead of bringing up her other gun, she thumbed the pin free of one of her grenades, then pitched it down the hall with, chasing it with a few last bullets before turning into a run.

The guards yelled and retreated, fast. Ada sprinted down the length of remaining hallway, lowering her shoulder into the door—

_BOOM_

—and tore through it just as the explosion rang out. She could feel the concussion against her back, and she slipped and nearly pitched headlong down the steps. Instead, she rolled down two steps and managed to catch the railing, breathing fast. Her back was sore from the fall, but armor took some of the punch, and she didn't feel any hot shrapnel sticking out of her. Not bad for a grenade in an enclosed space, but her ribs ached dully.

She got up, pushing any pain out of her mind, even if it flared with every breath. If any of the guards had survived, they'd follow her, but they might hold back if they knew she was carrying that kind of firepower. At either rate, she needed to move. Crow had a head start, and all she needed was a clear shot and a single bullet.

Gunfire was there to greet her when she barreled out of the stairwell. She was in the lobby of the hotel, some straggling civilians crossing the floor to flee the gunfire and explosions. There were three guards, one of them armed with an automatic submachine gun, the others with handguns.

Ada dove, firing wildly with two of her guns. One gun clicked empty, which she dropped in order to get a hold of a table to tip it over for cover. She didn't see where it landed, so she drew the remaining one and kept firing. People screamed and yelled, those close enough to the exits running, others simply dropping to the floor and covering their heads.

She managed to catch the one with the automatic in the chest, and he dropped like a sack of bricks. The others fired back, one from behind a loveseat, the other behind the reception desk. She dropped behind the table as return lead flew by. It was just barely thick enough to stop the rounds, but the back began to splinter as more and more fire was laid on it. One broke through and _zinged_ across her shoulder. She gasped as hot pain spread, the bullet clipping the edge of an armor plate. It wasn't a direct hit, but she felt warmth trickling down her arm.

She flung herself to the side, leaning out of cover and leveled one of her guns, aiming oddly down the sight while everything else was sideways. Her aim held true as she pulled the trigger three times, the target behind the loveseat taking two of the three bullets in the torso.

There was a break in the fire from the remaining guard behind the desk. Ada lunged forward and sprinted the distance between them firing with both arms outstretched. The shots cratered the marble countertop, keeping him pressed down against his cover. She jumped, her butt landing on the countertop, and she slid, firing her last few rounds straight into his back as she slid by.

Her feet had barely touched the floor before she was running again, discharging another spent magazine and replacing a fresh one in her Beretta, discarding her other empty gun. There wasn't enough time to hassle with another gun in her other hand and reload it while someone could get the drop on her.

Crow wouldn't have run outside; he'd go for the protection of the security, deeper into enemy territory. She was sure of it.

A sign pointed her down the hall, back towards the main ballroom. She set her teeth, then lowered her shoulder crashed through the double doors—

—just in time to see a wall of weapons leveled at her.

She skid to a halt, raising her weapon instinctively, but froze when she realized how many there were. There were at least a dozen in front of her, half of them armed with automatic weapons, and those were just the ones she could see. She raised her eyes, picking out four more on a balcony above. There was movement up and behind her, probably a few more on another balcony, but she didn't dare take her eyes off the ones in front of her. Footfalls entered behind her seconds later, followed by the click of guns. She was surrounded.

And in the center of all of them stood Crow, a sly smirk across his face and a revolver in his hand. Her gun centered on him as if pulled by a magnet, but it was pointless. The sinking feeling had already crept into her gut. They had her. Cold.

He cleared his throat. "Game over, Miss Wong."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

_My God is she beautiful…_

Crow really couldn't help himself from admiring her, even when he had cut her loose. He tried to force himself to push her from his mind, but she always seemed to come to the top of his mind and cloud his thoughts, like an incessant butterfly floating around a flower. A flower was pleasant to watch, and a butterfly was an amusing surprise, but after a while, it was only a nuisance.

Ada stared back at him from across the rotunda with hidden fire that cut the air between them. Powerful, even when it was dampened as she stared through the sight of her gun. Few women could muster a gaze like that and remain beautiful, even when furious. She truly was unique.

She wasn't wearing extravagant red, much to his own disappointment. Crow would have liked to see her alive for the last time in one of her flowing red gowns that seemed to set her passion ablaze. Her black combat pants and body armor was marred with scars and grit, splashed with white plaster; black to mourn her own nearing funeral. Favoring armor over heels and a slinky dress was astounding. She must have been so committed to killing him that she would relinquish one of the things that defined her.

But even when battered, dirty, and angry, Ada Wong still emitted this unseen radiance like an exotic particle. The very look of murder in her hazel eyes across her elegant Asian features screamed louder than any words could. Crow felt a tingle of excitement run down his spine, even though that hatred was directed at him. It almost felt like an honor to be hated by such a beautiful thing, to know that you could attract such wanton emotional fire from a single woman. At the same time, he knew he should be afraid, no, outright terrified. But everything was under control now, and he had nothing to fear.

He would have enjoyed watching that intoxicating gaze all day, but he doubted his men up on the upper balcony would welcome holding their weapons on her for that long. Neither would the ones scattered about the rotunda. Still, he wanted this moment to last an eternity. It had blossomed so fast out of the chaos. He would admit that he had felt fear, but above all he felt excitement, the same excitement whenever he got a glimpse of her performance.

_Simply magnificent…_

He shook his head dreamily, amused as he folded his hands before him, his revolver firmly in his right hand. The hammer was already cocked back and ready to fire a round. He didn't need to train the weapon on her, though, not with a dozen others already on the task. "You really are something, Miss Wong…You know that, right?"

The tip of her tongue poked from between her lips, wetting them. Other than that, she stood motionless. "Yeah, I do."

"After all the years of overseeing your operations, I never could quite fully understand you," he said thoughtfully. "Whenever I thought I had you figured out, you would pull one last twist. You performed years of faithful service, a willingness to do anything you were ordered, and suddenly, you were nearly my demise."

"Don't count that out just yet…" she purred quietly. There was a gentle rise in her arm and shoulder as she realigned her shot minutely. "I could hit you from a lot further away than this."

_I don't doubt it. I wonder if she's aiming for my head or my chest?_

She was standing on the other end of the rotunda, a considerable, yet close enough distance away, roughly ten meters away. Nothing stood between them other than tiled floor and open air. Too far to attack physically, well within her talent to shoot him, eyes closed probably.

"I could have offered you the world you know," Crow reminded her, still undeterred by the weapon and her threat. Ada was passionate, but not suicidal. "Anything you desired would have been at your fingertips. You could have been the queen to a new world order…But instead, you insisted on continuing to poke about in matters that didn't concern you. Why?"

"Because maybe I found something better than the world," Ada said coolly. "Maybe I was sick and tired of being used." She shrugged elegantly, the muzzle of the gun barely moving. "Or maybe I just felt like it."

"You're not going to pull the trigger, Miss Wong," Crow said simply.

"And why won't I?"

"Because if you shoot me, you die. You won't because you're not willing to sacrifice your life so needlessly. It's never been a flaw, if you consider it one. Your abilities have always been enough to surpass the odds you fought. You have never had the need, although…" Crow smirked. "…that didn't stop you from trying about six years ago, did it? After seeing how that worked out, I'm not surprised you never considered it again."

He was pleased to see a twitch run across her face, from her lip to her brow, even if the gun didn't waver. It was only one minor blemish that revealed itself only for an instant.

"After that, I think you had somewhat of a crisis. You didn't want to repeat the mistake you made, yet you were drawn to it all the same. I believe_ that's _when I began to lose my best operative…pure speculation, of course, as you performed quite well up until now."

"Do you really think I'm going to stand here and let you shoot me?" she asked back. "If you or your thugs shoot, you go down just as fast."

She was right about that, which is why they were locked in this standoff. The silence between them was so thick it could be cut with a knife. A gunshot, or any loud noise for that matter, would cause everyone's reflexes to snap, and he and Ada would probably die. Well, Ada would for certain as dozens of rounds from his guards tore her apart, but Crow might escape with a wound only, depending on how fast she shot.

Unless she shot him in the head, of course, and that was also assuming he would be hit in a non-vital area. Knowing Ada's skill, he decided not to risk the gamble. For now, she had to be taken alive, preferably without gunfire. Once in his possession he could personally take her apart, then dispose of her properly.

"I have no intention of killing you, Ada, at least not right here. You still possess a few pieces to the puzzle that I would like to have. Unfortunately for your sake, my previous offer has expired. You'll tell me what I want to know, but you're far too flawed to be the one at my side."

For the first time since her entrance in the rotunda, Crow took his eyes off of her to catch the eye of one of the guards behind her. With a simple flick of his vision, he gave the order. Two guards behind her moved in, their automatic weapons pointed to the small of her back. She bristled, but held her stance.

Crow looked back and smiled confidently at his former operative. "Now, why don't you be a good girl and drop your weapon. If you cooperate, I might not have to be so hard on you."

Ada's gaze flickered, first to her peripheral, then back to him, then to the men at his flank, then back to him. She pursed her lips, no doubt thinking hard for some way to turn things in her favor. But there were some things even Ada Wong couldn't wriggle out of.

With a slight sag of her shoulders, she turned the gun away from him, then let it fall to the ground with a loud clatter, raising both hands in defeat…

…and that's when he saw the twirling object fall to the ground between them. It bounced with a metallic _click_ as it hit the tile floor rolling, then came to a rest and spun wildly at his feet.

His eyes bulged in horror as he looked back to Ada. She was smiling, hands still raised, as if the biggest prank was being played out before her. A grenade pin was wrapped around her finger like a ring, the bomb it was pulled from now coming to a halt an inch away from his wingtips.

It was suicide!

"_NO!_" he screamed, but pandemonium had already erupted.

The gunfire beat the explosion by seconds. Rough hands grabbed his suit jacket and jerked him backwards. For a brief second, he saw a blur of motion that was Ada, perhaps tucking, or leaping, but then the world was tumbling over as he was flung in _some_ direction, and then the grenade exploded. It was louder than he could have ever imagined imagined, but it only lasted a second. The concussion from it felt like getting kicked in the chest, rattling his rib cage and shaking his entire body violently. His heart felt like it gained a new rhythm of wild beats, and then it was over, everything quiet save for the ringing in his ears.

Time seemed to move slow, dripping like molasses. When he was able to orient himself – he was laying face down – Crow rolled over to try and pull himself into a sitting position. He hadn't even seen a heavy conference table get knocked down in front of him, or who even did it, though it was probably the motionless corpse next to him, the front of which was a shredded mess of flesh and blood. There was a distant twinge in his shoulder, and the sensation of something trickling down his arm beneath his shirt sleeve. Red spread across his fingers, but only in a light trickle.

He finally succeeded in sitting up, and that's when he heard the distant popping of gunfire start up again; only it wasn't distant, it was right in front of him.

Somehow, Ada managed to survive the blast grimy and tattered, but still somehow beautiful, and currently had one of the guards – also somehow still alive – that stood behind her in her hands; or more precisely, his arm. The guards from the balcony above were laying down fire, but their shots were wide, both from the stun of the blast and for fear of hitting their own men. The rounds did little else than pepper the ground around her.

She slammed her arm into the guards elbow, snapping the bone with brutal efficiency and a dull scream of effort. The guard's submachine gun dropped, but not before she caught it by the shoulder strap and yanked it free from his falling body. A bullet hit her square in the back, and she jerked hard as her shoulders contorted in agony, stumbling to a knee, but stood her ground and chambered the gun to her shoulder as she spun _very slowly_ around and aimed upwards. Other parts of her armor showed liberal abuse, covered with pockmarks, scarring and divots. And blood.

The gun quietly fired a salvo of bursts, taking out and suppressing the guards shooting her from the balcony. She turned _slowly _again and trained the gun on a cluster of two men to his right, but one of them fired before she did. That's when he saw the spray of crimson shoot out from her inner thigh. She screamed distantly and almost went down again, but managed to turn the gun up in her hands and kept firing wildly.

A bullet or two nicked the table he was behind, sending splinters flying. The first guard, the one who shot her, took a bullet in the shoulder, and then a second which exited clean out the back of his skull from her wild spray. The other guard was clipped in the stomach, and then received half a dozen rounds to the chest as she put another burst into him.

Slowly, she turned towards him, and then locked eyes. Soft, hazel, but fierce and burning with hatred, from behind matted bangs that hung askew over her face. Time sped back up.

_No…no no…_

The gun locked onto him immediately. She pulled the trigger.

_Click._

Crow scrambled to get up, every joint and limb suddenly protesting in some form of agony, but made it to his feet. His black, polished, and treadles dress shoes slipped on the dusty, debris-littered parquet tiling, and he almost went face-first back to the floor. This was his only chance to escape, while she was out of ammo.

Ada, normally as graceful and lethal as a panther, stumbled forward on her wounded leg as she dropped the spent machine gun, scrabbling frantically towards her fallen handgun amidst the wreckage.

What terrified him the most before he turned and ran for the door was the look in her eyes, and the way her lips were parted back in a grimace. It wasn't a look of sense or pain; it was a look of pure, unadulterated revenge. The cool-thinking woman he saw behind it earlier had vanished, possibly even killed in the explosion.

She was an animal now.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

The wound in Ada's thigh felt like a hot poker, pumping blood down her leg which soaked the stiff black fabric of her fatigues. It wasn't a torrent; the bullet had to have missed her femoral artery. If it hadn't, she might have been unconscious already, then dead shortly after. But it _hurt._ Everything hurt. Her thigh was just the thing that hurt the most, even still with her cracked rib. The last shot that landed between her shoulder blades throbbed as if a pick axe had been brought down on her spine. A piece of shrapnel had lodged itself in her upper arm, spilling forth another trickle of precious blood. Everything else was scratched or sore.

When she hit the ground and dove for her handgun, Crow was already up on his feet, and by the time her hand closed around the handle, he was running. Sirens were going off in her head, red creeping into the fringes of her vision as her body begged her to just _slow__down._ But if she did, she would die.

The gun felt gritty and dirty in her hand, but it didn't matter how it looked or felt. It only mattered if it could kill. Through the red, the pain, and all the sights and sensations, she focused on his back and tried to bring the gun up.

Movement to the left caught her eye. Crow faded away, and a new clear spot appeared in her vision. A guard, bringing his gun up, only a few feet away. It was one of the ones in suits, his tie askew, jacket filthy and unkempt after the explosion. She turned the gun on him and fired twice, but neither sound registered in her ears. Everything was just one steady ring like a broken speaker. Instead, she just saw two muzzle flashes, then two red holes on his chest as he fell to the ground.

Back to Crow. His dark jacket was slipping through a doorway.

_Get__ up._

She struggled to get a foot under her, but her leg crumpled when she put weight on it. Her mouth was open, but she couldn't hear own scream.

_Get__ up_ now.

Her leg held, but the _pain_…more red crept into her vision as she planted both feet beneath her and rose shakily. The voice in her head giving the orders was her own. It didn't care.

Something hot _zinged_ past her side, almost knocking her right back down. She spun on her good leg, careening wildly. He was down low, still laying on the ground with his gun haphazardly pointed at her. One shot to the head was all it took to put him down.

_Now__ move. __Kill __him._

Ada stumbled forward, not sure if she was giving her body the commands, or if it was something else pulling her strings. She wasn't even sure how she was moving. Every step on her right leg was shaky and sent a lance of pain shooting up her spine. But nonetheless, she moved forward, step by shaky step, until it turned into a sloppy jog. Despite the fact part of the muscle in her leg was torn from the wound, that one standing guard fired at her from behind, she still moved forward. After Crow.

Her gun was tight in her hand, knuckles bone white as she kept it rigid in front of her, as if it were some kind of guide. She saw the guards in front of her, just not well enough to make out their features or faces. The rest of the hallway, or passage, or room, wherever she was was equally as vague. There were alcoves, maybe doorways, something in her way that could have been a table, or one of a dozen other things. What she could see perfectly was Crow's stumbling form at the end of it all.

She sighted them as fast as she could and pulled the trigger. The motions were all but a muscle memory for her, but if she focused hard enough, it would be that much longer that she wasn't focusing on the pain. She had to throw herself to the side sluggishly as faint gunshots fired back, ducking beneath or behind anything solid that was close enough. Her throat felt scratchy, and she thought she was screaming, but if she was, she couldn't hear it.

A figure stepped out in front of her as she charged forward, the unmistakable shape of a stubby submachine gun in his hand as the red haze cleared slightly. Her handgun clicked dry, and with nowhere left to shed her speed, she threw her shoulder into his stomach and grabbing his clothes. They were stiff and rigid, with hard plates beneath. He was wearing armor.

She didn't know if the guards ahead of her were that much more desperate, or if it was all just too confusing, but they continued to fire at her. Their rounds struck the guard she was holding in the back as she continued to push him forward with her. Another bullet whizzed by her shoulder, grazing it with a hot cut. She could actually _feel_ the rounds reverberate as they hit his armor, some penetrating and entering his body. He grew heavy as she started to lose speed; either that, or the amount of lead in his body was weighing him down. With a brief moment of grace, she spun beneath his falling body, ripping the gun away from him and throwing it up with one hand and holding down the trigger. It kicked wildly in her hand, but she kept it in front of her as she swung it through like a whip.

One of them went down in front of her with several red blossoms soaking his jacket. The others ducked away from the spray of bullets as the gun went empty. The guard's sidearm had fallen in front of her, and despite the pain in her leg, she threw herself into a forward roll. The motion re-ignited every signal of pain that had gone silent, but her hand closed around the frame. She came out of the roll, switching the gun around so she could get its grip and started pulling the trigger.

The rest of the guards dropped under her fire, and she continued to stumble forward, around the corner where she had seen Crow flee. It led to a stairwell, and being on the ground floor, all she had to do was point herself upward. It was torture to go up each one; but she did, panting, grunting, and sweating the entire way while leaving a trail of blood behind her.

_Keep__ going. __Don__'__t__ you_ dare_ stop__ now._

She wasn't the only one bleeding. Doors branched off on each landing, and there was no way of knowing if Crow had slipped through any of them – except for what she saw on the floor. There were faint scuff marks from dress shoes, sprinkled with dust and bits of grime, and sometimes a few sparse drips of crimson blood. More of it was smeared on the hand rail, always going up. He was injured, though not much. Just enough for her to stay on his tail, and enough to add to her motive to finish him off.

The trail of blood droplets continued up, past the various floors of the hotel, until she heard a faint buzzing over the ringing in her ears. She couldn't even imagine what it was until the stairs ended, the roof access door wide open. The buzzing had turned into a low roar, and with a sinking feeling, she recognized it.

_No…no, no!_

There was a helicopter on the roof, its blades already fully spinning as it began to slowly lift and turn away. She ran forward, leg quaking in agony as it almost refused to move as the memories of Irving slipping away flashed through her mind.

The helicopter veered a few feet above the rooftop, then listed to the side and began to swing out from over the roof. Ada squinted through sensitive eyes at the bright sunlight, bringing her gun up and pulling the trigger as fast as she could. The rounds registered on the side of the hull, imprinting holes and divots, but after the sixth shot, the gun ran dry with a click. The helicopter tipped its nose, as if mocking her, and then flew off.

"_No!_" she cried, wanting to sprint after it, but her body had decided she'd had her chance. Her leg froze and she went down in mid-stride onto her hands and knees, gritty white gravel and dust stinging her palms and cuts.

She watched the helicopter for as long as she could, but through her blurred vision it quickly faded. Crow had gotten away alive. She had failed. The last chance she had to redeem herself for helping him for so long was gone, and she screwed up because of her own carelessness and recklessness. Like a rookie. She wanted to scream, but the best she could manage was a strangled moan that sounded like an animal to her ringing ears. She slammed her palm onto the rooftop, but the gravel was hard and unyielding.

If everything she had worked for in her life had amounted to this moment, then it had all come undone. She had undone it all by being stupid and brash, and now she was shot up, injured, and had accomplished nothing. The frustration and self pity was almost enough to start the tears.

Then she realized she wasn't alone.

Over the incessant ringing, now that the helicopter's engine had faded, she heard the sound of footfalls coming up the stairs behind her…no, they were already crunching on gravel!

She reached to her belt, where on grenade still hung, her last weapon. She had her finger in the pin when a boot suddenly kicked out against her knuckles and knocked it from her hand, unarmed. When she made a dive for it, something that felt like the toe of another boot struck her in the ribs, stirring up a familiar blossom of pain from her ribs. She coughed, all of her air gone, and slumped to the ground. Hands grabbed her vest and shirt, turning her over, but she fought back. Despite her clawing, her arms were twisted behind her, and plastic zip-ties fastened around her wrists.

The hands pulled her on her back, and the last thing she saw was the butt of a rifle slamming into her skull, then blackness overtook her.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey all! Just wanted to let you know that this story is about two chapters away from being finished. Thank you so much for sticking with it so far!**


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"You know, we're pretty lucky to be getting anything at all," Fischer said as he and Leon walked out into the parking structure. "The Italian government wasn't too keen on handing Wong over to us."

"So what made them budge?" Leon asked.

Fischer sighed. "Fortunately, they've signed on with the BSAA, and it was their recommendation that we get to interrogate her first. After we're done, though, we hand her back over. The Italians want to try her under their laws."

The finality of his statement dropped like a rock in Leon's stomach. It was one thing to know Ada was an enemy operative, but now she was being classed as a wanted terrorist. If you looked up 'Wong' on the terror alert list now, she'd be grouped with middle-eastern extremists and Russian political activists, the kind that blew up public buildings, and were ordered to be shot on sight or executed in federal prison.

"She's lucky the police got to her before what was left of the conference's security," Fischer continued as they made their way deeper into the parking structure. "They might have put her down outright after the spree she went on; at least the cops arrested her first."

That was the other thing that sent a chill down his spine when Fischer told him what happened. Ada had killed over a dozen people and destroyed the inside of a five star hotel. That wasn't her method of operation; she didn't go in guns blazing, slaughtering whatever was in her way. Something wrong had to have happened for that. What's more, he got wind that she was injured pretty badly.

The gate on the far side of the structure opened, and an armored van pulled in, flanked by two SUVs. The van pulled in first, with the two SUVs pulling up alongside it, disgorging more than half a dozen agents. Armored troops with automatic rifles stepped out of the driver and passenger seats of the truck.

It was going to be tough. Fischer insisted on Leon's presence, since it was Ada they were dealing with. However, he wasn't sure if he could handle what he was going to see. Dangerous, high profile terrorists weren't treated with the elegance that she should be treated with.

_She__'__s __not__ a __terrorist.__ Stop __thinking __like __that._

As Fischer and Leon moved to the back of the truck, the other agents flanked them, clearing their suit coats from their holsters and releasing their weapons. The two guards from the truck opened the rear doors, and he prepared himself for the worst: a bloodied and battered Ada Wong, chained like an animal at gunpoint, and that was the best his imagination could offer.

What he didn't expect was an empty interior, two unconscious armored guards, and a pile of cuffs and chains.

He stood, dumbstruck, as did Fischer and the rest of the agents. Ada was nowhere to be found. How she escaped in transit, restrained, and under guard would be a mystery that was only known by her and God.

At last, Fischer sighed, though it sounded more like irritation than anything else. "Well, I guess I better go call President Graham…"

* * *

There were still some things that never ceased to surprise him. In hindsight, it was stupid, because he knew exactly what, and who, he was dealing with.

Still, when Leon walked into his apartment that evening, he was taken aback to see Ada sitting at his kitchen table.

It was only a temporary move for him, a pre-furnished one-bedroom apartment closer to the inner city of DC. Just enough to get by until he could find time to pick out a place that he actually liked. With things getting as chaotic as they were, he wasn't sure when that would be exactly. The GSA was still watching him like a hawk after his own apartment was targeted, which played into the delay of finding a new apartment. Hopefully, he could get something soon.

Again, how she made it through downtown DC with an all-points bulletin out was something he wasn't meant to know.

She didn't say anything when he entered. Of all the times he imagined suddenly walking in a room with Ada Wong waiting for him, a silent greeting with a mournful expression wasn't even on the list. He figured it would be with a gun, or a different weapon, or with an offer and a plan to screw him over somehow. Maybe she would be waiting for him behind the door, in the dark, ready to jump him by surprise before he could react. In his fantasies and dreams, she'd be alone, sometimes wearing sexy lingerie, sometimes nothing at all.

"I guess I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised," he admitted as he shut the door, tossing his coat over the single kitchen counter next to the stove. She still didn't say anything. Instead, she sipped from a cup of something she had helped herself to. Leon looked down. "I'd also be lying if I said I wasn't worried, too."

_And__ pissed_, he reminded himself.

He stepped up to the table and sat down at the only other chair next to her, a rickety folding chair of plastic and metal that squeaked every time it moved. In the better light and up close, he was able to see the new injuries: a few scrapes on her face, a sutured cut on her smooth, creaseless forehead, a splint on her right ring finger, and a few other bandages that covered who knew what, and that was just what he could see. There could be even more hidden under the plain shirt and jeans she wore.

Without even thinking, he reached out and clasped her hand. The motion felt natural, as if he'd been doing it for years instead of for the first time. She squeezed back gently, her grip comparatively weaker. Not at all like Ada, who he expected to return it with just as much vigor. But despite her injuries, the unkemptness, she looked even more beautiful than ever. If it just wasn't for the emptiness in her eyes.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I screwed up," she said without even looking at him. Her voice was a little more than a shadow of its usual purr, now more of a deadpan croak.

"No denying that," he agreed, hoping it didn't sound as cynical as he thought it did. It was merited, however. She had taken off, with no request for backup or help, and from little he had heard from Fischer through the Italian government, she was lucky to be alive. He was pissed at her, but felt more relieved than ever that he could still feel the warmth of her skin. "You messed up big."

"I had him, literally in my hands, and I let him get away. I could have ended it, ended _him_, and I screwed it up."

It was as if the revelation hit her again harder when she told him aloud. She inhaled deeply, her eyes widening slightly. Her hand twitched in his, but he squeezed gently again, and that seemed to make her relax. She brought the cup to her lips with a shudder, taking another sip of whatever it was. It looked like water, but he could smell an aroma; probably the single pack of tea he never opened from the back of his cupboard. Somehow, it made the quick move to his new place.

Instinct wanted to reassure her that, somehow, it wasn't really her that messed up, but then again, he couldn't honestly say he progressed that far in a relationship to know if that really worked. Plus, he also felt like he shouldn't be sugarcoating anything. If Ada screwed up, she screwed up. The simple fact that she was telling him outright and not simply denying her involvement was astounding. Patronizing her might just make it worse.

Ultimately, he just sighed, but still held her hand. At least he could do that.

"I screwed _us_ up."

Now he had to draw the line. "You didn't screw us up."

"Bull_shit_," she swore. Her voice wavered on the expletive. He hadn't heard that tremble since Raccoon City. "I went feral at a pharmaceutics convention, let Crow get away, and now I'm a terrorist. If they see me with you now you're—"

"Shut up."

She did, her face in a grimace. Her eyes still didn't meet his. He didn't try to make them meet either. He just didn't want to hear it. She was right, as she usually was. Her notoriety had gone up even further, and even if it wasn't the case, the government saw her as a loose cannon now. Whatever points she scored working with them were gone.

"They messed you up pretty good, huh?" Leon asked, trying to steer her thoughts to something else. "I'd hate to see the place where it went down."

It seemed to work, if only for a moment. He couldn't read what was going on behind those blank eyes, but she gave an airy laugh, then lifted her other hand, nodding at the splint on her finger. "This one goes to the cops. One I haven't broken before, so I guess that's something…"

That was it. Back to silence. He really wasn't sure what else he could say. Well, there were some things he could say, but he didn't want to. He just wanted to hold what was left of the moment while it was there. Maybe that way, he could make it seem like forever.

Eventually, she was the one to say it. "I have to go again."

He sighed heavily. It had come quick, but at least it didn't hurt as bad as he thought it was going to. Like ripping off a band-aid. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. Do you know where you're going to go?"

She sighed, toying with the handle of her cup. "I have a few places I can lie low. Not inside the States. I was always sure to keep a few places off the organization's radar, just in case."

Exactly like her. He noticed she didn't tell him where she was going, or how she was going to get there. He wanted to ask, but for her safety, as well as his own, he was better off not knowing.

He lifted her hand off the table, bringing it to his mouth to kiss it. She smelled normal. No fancy perfume, no painted nails. Her scent mixed with his own, clean and soapy, but tinged with a hint of grime and sweat. She really didn't react to that either, but at least she squeezed a little harder.

She got up, wincing and favoring her right leg. He wondered again just how badly she was hurt. That need to make her stay and care for her came back stronger than ever. Then he remembered how effortlessly she seemed to escape her transit to the GSA; there were some things that she just couldn't turn off. Wanting to take care of her was one thing, but actually _needing_ to was a whole other story.

The walk to the small front hall was agonizing. Leon wished they were somewhere else other than a cramped apartment.

"If I ever find anything out about Crow, I'll find a way to get it to you. Probably not personally, but it will reach the GSA somehow."

She was leaving again. For the first time, she was leaving and he couldn't even say 'wait'.

He nodded. "Thanks. Maybe it will help convince Fischer and the President that you're not…you know…"

A terrorist? An enemy? The woman he loved?

She nodded softly. "Yeah, maybe. We'll see." She looked down at her feet like a shy schoolgirl, her mouth still open as if she was thinking of the words she wanted to say. "Listen Leon, I just wanted to say I'm…" She wanted to say 'sorry', he could see her mouth trying to make the word. She stopped herself, and instead looked up. "…I'm glad I got a chance to say good-bye this time."

There was brightness in her eyes, but he had never seen her this sad before. She tried to hide it with a forced smile, but the whites of her eyes shimmered. Leon returned the smile, hoping he could mask his expression better than her. It wasn't likely.

"Yeah. So, I guess this is good-bye—"

She caught the word right out of his mouth when she leaned in and kissed him. It was deep and passionate, not anything like the fiery heat during their fight. Her taste flooded his mouth, and he relished it, returning the kiss. He held her in his arms, content to remember the moment for the rest of his life if it had to be this way.

When she finally broke away, her breath shuddered on his lips, but stayed strong. "…for now," she finished, blinking away the shimmering. "For now."

"For now," he agreed.

He didn't want to let his grip loosen on her, but he had to. Her body slipped away from his, its soothing heat vanishing, and she went to the door.

It may not have been the first time Ada walked out of his life, but it was the first time he had to let her go willingly. For both of their sakes. It didn't mean that he couldn't, and wouldn't, love her like he always had.

He stayed hopeful as the door shut behind her. She was just one woman, and she brought him through hell and back more than once. Every second he was with her threw his life in a new direction, and there was nothing he could do to control it. But the one thing he held on to was that no matter how drastically things changed, they always stayed the same. He always waited, but she always came back, and every time she did, they got closer and closer.

He waited for Ada Wong because she was worth waiting for.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Crow stormed through the hall, his anger blocking out everything save for the furnished double doors ahead of him. One hand hit the knob while he raised his other arm to their surface, bashing them open hard enough that they swung out and slammed against the wall, nearly coming back to crack him in the head had he not already stomped into the room.

"_Fucking bitch!_"

Excella, who had been sitting on the other side of the room at her desk, jumped in her seat at the sudden, and loud, intrusion. She put a hand to her chest in surprise, eyes wide in shock, but he barely noticed. His expletive hadn't been exactly clear, but if she thought it was directed at her, he didn't care. The last thing on his mind was her petty pride and attitude. He didn't care about anything at the moment…

…except Ada Wong.

He went straight to the small wet bar in the corner of her office and grabbed the first bottle of bourbon he saw, pouring himself half a glass worth. No ice. He needed something hot, something to contest against the desire to wrap his fingers around her throat and squeeze the life out of her.

"James! What on earth—" Excella managed to get out, but stopped herself at his disheveled appearance. His jacket was smeared in white plaster, scuffed and ripped in areas. His face was dirty, hair askew from its normally slick, gelled look. Some of his best clothes, ruined by that selfish, arrogant bitch, and that was only at the bottom of the list of what she had done.

The first glass of alcohol went down smoothly, so he poured himself another and downed it just as quickly. It wasn't helping. Ada's last taunt, her last refusal to submit to him still burned in his mind. She had tried to kill him, and he had to run from her with his tail between his legs. He was supposed to have the power over her. He was supposed to own her, and yet—

"_Stupid, fucking, _cunt!" he yelled, then pitched the empty glass across the room. It shattered against the wall in a thousand pieces. Excella jumped again, sliding back on her office chair apprehensively.

If he hadn't been so blinded, he might have noticed the low cut of her white silk dress, and the way her hand rested on the curve of her bosom. Her desk was glass, and those creamy tan thighs seemed to go on forever beneath it. He didn't want that cool refinement. He wanted Ada Wong, her fire and passion. He wanted to take her and kill her with his bare hands for what she had done, for nearly ruining everything he had worked to achieve. She needed to suffer a hundred times over for what she had done, and when she was begging for mercy, he'd do it all again.

…so why did he want her more than ever? Never before had she made him so amorous just by thinking of her. There was only one woman who could turn him on by trying to kill him, and that was Ada Wong.

His turned back to the bar, his hands curling around the edge hard enough to where he heard the wood creak under his fingers, to where his knuckles started to burn from the exertion. The urge to tip it over was overwhelming. Destruction for the sake of destruction; to have glass, wood, and liquor mar and stain the pristine rug of Excella's office.

He almost jumped when he felt Excella's cool hand on the back of his neck.

"James, I've never seen you in such a disheveled state," she exclaimed. Her other hand tugged at his arm. "Sit down and try to collect yourself. Tell me what happened."

Her soothing purr worked into his ears, easing some of the fury. He relaxed a little bit and let her guide him to the sofa along the wall. From the bar, she collected some ice cubes and used them to dampen a cloth to dab at his face. The coolness did wonders against his hot skin, and he was able to settle down further. Thoughts began to come a little more clearly, though they were still filled with Ada. Never before in his life had he gotten so worked up.

"It was Ada," he said heavily. "She tracked me to the conference and attacked. Nearly leveled the entire hotel."

There was a pause in Excella's dabbing. "Wong?" she asked crisply. "In Italy? Does she—"

"I doubt it," he interrupted. "She was grasping at straws when she found me, so it's unlikely she made the connection between myself and Tricell. You'll be safe, but we need to be cautious. I need to leave the country as soon as possible."

It was all coming back into control. Tricell security had picked him up at just the last time. Again, he had to admire their efficiency, but he doubted they'd be able to apprehend or eliminate Ada. He could only imagine the chaos he left behind, but he was certain there was no way to link him to Tricell. The chopper was unmarked, as were the security forces. She had nothing.

Crow rested his head on the back of the sofa. His pulse was starting to go down to normal levels. Now that he thought about it, how had Ada provoked his anger so much? She had been difficult in the past, yes, but he had always kept it together. Then again, she had never come quite this close to putting a bullet in his head before.

He settled further, closing his eyes. Excella dabbed away, the cool damp clothing feeling even better now that he was thinking straight. Who needed an unstable element like Ada Wong when he had her? All he had to do was—

—a sharp, stinging pain suddenly plunged into the side of his neck. His entire body tensed, which only made it burn worse, and then it was gone. He clapped a hand to the afflicted spot, thinking a wasp or hornet had made its way into the office. Instead of a small insect, he felt smooth, warm skin, and pulled it into view.

It was Excella's wrist, and she was holding an empty syringe.

Crow blinked and went pale not quite sure of what he was seeing. "What…what did you do?" When he turned to look at Excella, she was smirking, her green eyes narrowed in malicious slits.

Almost effortlessly, she rose from the armrest, plucking her wrist from his grip with a twist of her arm. "It doesn't have a name yet. Batch 23 is its laboratory designation. A splicing of several toxins, most notably taipoxin."

His hand went to his neck, which was starting to sting. Taipoxin…what was…

"What…_neurotoxin_?" Crow nearly shrieked.

Excella smiled wider, her grin predatory. "Precisely, James." She frowned suddenly. "Odd, it should have taken effect by now…"

His mind was spinning, still trying to take in what just happened. He gaped at Excella, who only stood there, poised with the empty syringe in hand and smiling. When the gravity of what happened settled in a second later, his face twisted into rage.

"You _bitch_!" he yelled, leaping forward off the chair. As he did, nearly every muscle in his body when into a spasm, then froze entirely. He stumbled in front of her and crashed to the floor.

"Ah, there it goes."

He could barely move. There was some feeling in his extremities, but that wasn't what was causing the panic to rise. It was getting harder to breathe. Every breath he drew in was labored to the point where he was wheezing. Whatever was paralyzing his muscles was moving to his lungs. He growled into the carpet, willing his arms to claw forward, dragging him towards Excella inch by inch. She would pay for her betrayal. He would crush her throat!

"You will find that batch 23 is quite efficient, James," she remarked. All Crow could see were her ivory pumps, and they weren't moving. The edges of his vision were starting to blur. "Taipoxin paralyzes the subject, then moves to the respiratory system. You'll be dead in only a few minutes, though it does appear to need a faster activation."

He snarled again, reaching forward towards her ankle. Breathing was laborious now. With one final reach forward, he grabbed her ankle and squeezed. She would pay…

…but Excella gave a wag of her foot, breaking his weak grasp, then turned on the sole of her foot and strutted to her desk. Crow made another grab for her as she passed, but she was already out of reach.

"I have no more need for you, James," she said, setting the syringe down on her desk before moving to the couch on the opposite side of the room. She lowered herself onto it, long legs crossing in front of him. The rest of his vision was starting to blur, and what little air he had was quickly growing stagnant in his lungs. "You see, I can be so much more without having to deal with your creeping hands and lecherous stares." She scoffed, then inspected the manicure on one of her hands. "It makes me sick. Such knowledge and power, and you'd use it all to get me to spread my legs. Despicable."

In his last few moments, Crow could only wonder how he had been betrayed and how he never saw it coming. Excella had been under his control. He had nurtured her with Umbrella's legacy, and she slipped a needle in his neck without so much as batting an eye. How much of it was simply her laying in wait like a venomous snake?

Everything turned darker and darker until it was black.

* * *

Excella gave a small _hmph_ as Crow went motionless, sprawled across the carpet of her office like a ragdoll. The last gasp of breath squeezed from his lungs was chased with a spray of drool as his eyes went glassy. The urge to spit on his corpse was overwhelming, but she wouldn't bring herself to that disgusting level.

The high of killing someone with her own hands was exhilarating, so much that she even felt a little dizzy as Crow slipped away when it caught her off guard. Her heart beat within her breast wildly, as if the eyes of the world were watching her every move. It was one thing to order a death; it was another to take a life and watch it fade before you.

Eventually, the high dissipated, and she was left staring at his cooling corpse, eyes empty and mouth hanging open in a rather unattractive manner despite just how handsome he was. It was a pity, really, when she thought about it. If he hadn't been so manipulating her, so keen on coaxing her into bed, he would have made a handsome partner and loyal servant when the throne of Tricell was hers.

She poured herself a quick glass of cognac, downing it in two gulps, then hastily powdered her face at her desk. The aftermath of the rush was so powerful she feared she might break out in a light sweat.

The phone rang suddenly, making her jump even though she was expecting the call. She shook her head, trying to clear away the nerves, and picked it up. "Yes?"

"_Signora Gionne, your limousine has arrived._"

She breathed a sigh of relief. "_Grazie_, Enrico. I will be down momentarily. I shall be gone for a few days, so I expect this mess in my office to be cleaned up when I return."

"_Of course, Signora. It will be handled quietly.._"

He was here, right on time. Excella fanned herself with her hand as she threw her things into her handbag. All the while, she wondered how it could have gone wrong: what if he had been late? What if she lost her nerve, or if Crow had overpowered her? The possibilities were almost endless, but she had succeeded, and that was all that mattered. The future lay ahead, and there was no point in dwelling on past what-ifs.

She slung her wrap around her shoulders, taking her handbag around her arm, and with one final look at Crow's body, she turned her nose up and strolled through the door.

Her limousine, a long white stretch with dark tinted windows was waiting in the driveway to the office with its engine idling. The chauffer opened the door for her as she approached, and with a final, deep breath to cool her nerves, she stepped inside. Albert was waiting for her. A briefcase was in the seat next to him, so she took up the spot across from him

"Is it done?" he asked quietly, barely acknowledging her.

She looked back into the reflective surface of his sunglasses, her face neutral, professional. "Yes. He is dead."

She almost missed the tiny tip of his head as he nodded, then looked away. "Good."

He seemed even quieter than he normally was, but she suspected it was because of his injuries. The suture above his eye had healed remarkably fast since she last saw him, now barely more than a scratch, but there was no telling of how extensive the damage was that she couldn't see. The other scar that had been on his face had vanished completely, and she supposed this one would too. It was just one of the many things about Albert Wesker that fascinated her.

However, despite her fascination, his abrupt reply stung a little. She had been hoping for praise, approval, something that showed he was impressed. Instead, he'd given her one compliment, if even that.

The limousine pulled out of the driveway, providing a smooth ride to the freeway. Excella tried to act disinterested and nonchalant, checking her phone for the dozen or so emails that had since spilled in, but she kept stealing glances at his silent, brooding form, wondering if he was going to say anything else. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, and cleared her throat.

"I believe I've shown you that I can be trustworthy, Albert," she stated firmly. "and now I believe it's time that you share your plans with me."

"You've shown me that you can stab a man in the back, nothing more," he corrected instantly, as if he knew _exactly_ when the question was coming. The gaze of his sunglasses didn't even turn towards her. "If anything, you've proved that I should trust you even less."

Her temper flared, eyes narrowing in contempt. She had risked everything! Were it not for the complacency of her subordinates and her authority, she would have never been able to eliminate Crow so quietly within her own office. Her career was at stake for this move, her image, her very life, and not to mention her family reputation. Now he threw it back in her face, even going so far to call her dangerous in the same breath!

"I risked everything to kill that lecherous filth with my own hands as you demanded," she snapped, pointing a finger at him. "You _dare_ to call me untrustworthy?"

"Tell me, Miss Gionne, what is trust?" he asked suddenly, cocking his head towards her. Despite not being able to see his eyes, he had an amused expression on his face.

She glared at him, then opened her mouth. "I…" Just as quickly, she faltered, and her face grew hot. "What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?"

The top of his lip curled in a smirk, and he dug into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Trust is about demonstration on a personal, Miss Gionne. You can never truly trust someone until your life is in their hands."

He procured a small syringe, holding it on the flat of his palm to offer it to her. Excella eyed it apprehensively. It was unmarked as to what it held, save for a dosage. Did he want to inject herself with it?

"What is that?" she asked after a while.

"A dose of PG67. I require precise and regular injections to maintain my bodily functions. Without it, I will die…or worse." The shift of his gaze turned to her face. "If you would be so kind, Miss Gionne. I'm placing my life in your hands."

The limousine stopped. They had reached the airport, where they would be traveling the rest of the way. Excella eyed the syringe again, then took it in her hand and moved next to him. When she did, Albert offered her his arm. She rolled back the arm of his jacket to expose his wrist. It looked normal for a man of his age, only when she touched it to find the vein on his wrist, his skin was cool, not warm.

He didn't flinch when the needle pierced his skin, or when she depressed the plunger of the syringe. The only movement he made was to flex his hand after she withdrew the needle, and she doubted it was due to discomfort. Possibly a reaction from whatever she just injected him with? Whatever it was, that was the only reaction it invoked.

He didn't offer or allow her to swab the site with disinfectant. He only rolled down the sleeve of his jacket, but then picked up the briefcase that was sitting next to him and handed it to her. It was armored in black, and framed with steel, but not locked. Upon his indication, she opened it. Inside, set in neat, foamed rows, were several dozen identical syringes of PG67. She didn't know by what schedule he required doses, but she would wager it had to be several month's worth. At least.

"As you can see, _this_ is what trust is, Excella. Between you and I, and no one else."

She nodded slowly, realizing what a gesture this was to her. It was his weakness, the power to give him life and take it, and he was openly sharing it with her. That's what she was trusted with, not simply how well she could follow orders. Coming from a man of such status like Albert Wesker it was…humbling.

She latched the case, shifting it to the seat next to her. "Of course, Albert, I understand. Perfectly. You have my trust."

"I'm glad I do, for I will need both it and Tricell's. You and I are going to uncover Umbrella's legacy. Its origins. What they started with will secure the Gionne name at the top of Tricell, and all pharmaceutics companies across the world."

Excella smiled widely. If what he said was true, then it would be the realization of every ambition and dream she ever had. "Where do we start?"

He glanced to her, and with another small smirk gave her a cryptic answer.

"Africa."

**The End**

* * *

**Author's Notes: I just wanted to take this time to thank all of the readers for their dedication to this story, and even more so to this series of stories I've written. I've seen familiar faces, as well as new ones pick up all three Butterfly Effects****. Whether you loved them or hated them, thank you for reading!**

**People have urged me to continue this series, but I think it will stay as a trilogy. Coming up with new ideas in the same setting grew hard for me at the end, and I want to explore new concepts. I honestly feel the story started to slack at the end, as did the quality of my writing, so I will tie this series off into RE 5 like I originally planned. It's just my take on the events that span between RE 4 and 5, and pure speculation otherwise.**

**For now, I'm actually going to break off from Resident Evil for a bit. I'm currently working on novelizing Mirror's Edge, which has become one of my favorite settings. If you are unfamiliar with the game, or are familiar with it, I would love to hear your input on it. Obviously, you can find it in on my profile.**

**After that, I would like to return to the RE universe and try some concepts I've been thinking of, such as re-working an older concept from an earlier story of mine, crossing the series with Inception, or doing another spy/action thriller with our favorite Ada Wong.** **I hope to see you all in the future, and thank you once again!**


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